


Cheek to Cheek

by Indybaggins



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Blow Jobs, Break Up, Coming Out, Developing Relationship, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Porn with Feelings, Premature Ejaculation, Sex, Sexual Inexperience, Sleeping Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-18 00:33:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5891152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Indybaggins/pseuds/Indybaggins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>The first time he has sex with Douglas, Martin comes in his pants...</i> Sex, angst, romance and realism - how the two of them might fit together in bed, and what happens after they do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jie_jie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jie_jie/gifts).



> For Jie_Jie, the best friend a girl could ever ask for <3 
> 
> Beta was by the wonderful Daasgrrl, thank you!

 

 

It starts in the corridor of a two-star hotel. They’re saying goodnight, and Martin can barely look at Douglas because... that’s not all they’re saying. 

Martin can feel it heat his cheeks. He eyes Douglas while the nerves jump through his body, and _hopes_. 

Douglas says, with a slight tremor in his voice, “Martin?” 

Martin‘s lips open, and his breath stutters, “Yes, I...” 

He looks at Douglas, and he’s scared, but Martin takes a hesitant step forwards, and... kisses him.

It’s warm. Douglas’ lips are warm, that’s the first thing Martin feels. Martin’s sure that Douglas will stop him, so he only presses his lips against Douglas’ for a moment, but Douglas kisses him back. Douglas’ hands are folding over him, a soft pressure on his shoulders. It hurts, almost, how good it is. Douglas’ arms around him, the pressure of his lips, the flash of tongue so good that it makes him sigh all the way down to his toes. 

Douglas pulls him in and Martins steps close until they’re pressed together and Martin can feel his whole body pulse as he kisses him. He has wanted this, he has wanted it _for so long_. 

It does, breathlessly, end, but when Martin looks up he can see in Douglas’ eyes as they trail over him that maybe, he’s wanted this, too. 

“ _Well._ ” Douglas looks at him with a stunned, small smile. 

Martin can feel himself smile back, probably all big and happy but he can’t help it, this, it’s...

They both startle at the sound of the lift doors opening further down the corridor. Douglas glances that way, and then looks at him. “Perhaps we should discuss this inside?” Douglas uses his key card to open his door. 

Martin follows. He closes the door behind them, and locks it.

And Douglas is there, looking at him, with a _bed_ right behind him. “Martin... are you sure you want this?” 

Martin knows that he’s shaking. All of this feels unreal, but it’s not an accident, not at all, he has thought about it so often. He wants it even if it’s just for a bit, for just now. So he says, “Yes. I want to.” 

Douglas smiles at that, briefly, steps towards him, puts a hand on his arm, and kisses him again. 

Martin holds onto to Douglas’ shoulders and he never thought that this could be real, it’s like a dream where he’s happy. Only his hands are sweating, and Douglas’ cheek is kind of raspy against his own and there are a million little details that he never thought to imagine. 

Douglas kisses the side of his neck, lightly, sucks there a little and scrapes his teeth. It makes Martin feel weak in the knees. 

Douglas leans over him, hums, the sound a deep vibration between them, and does it again, kisses his neck. The stubble of his cheek scratches Martin’s skin and makes him shiver.

Douglas pulls him in, and Martin presses closer to him. Martin can feel the heat and the hardness of him. _Douglas is hard._

Martin’s heart is pounding. He starts to grind his hips to Douglas’, because it feels so good, _so very good_. Douglas is warm and solid. Douglas’ hands are on him, exploring, they go down and down, and then lie over his arse. Their eyes lock, and Martin can feel it take his breath away. 

Douglas groans, and the sound sends a wave of pleasure all over him. 

Martin can feel the scratch of his zipper rub against his erection just right. He’s thrusting against Douglas’ hard on, and Douglas’ hands are making him feel so… and oh, Martin can barely _breathe_. He... oh, _no, no, NO!!!_

...comes with a sharp spike of pleasure. 

Just like that. 

Martin lets go of Douglas immediately. He’s sure that he made a sound of some sort and his face is throbbing and hot and there’s a warm wet spot in his trousers, slick and growing. 

Martin can feel the shame surround him like a haze while Douglas says, distantly, “You’re... _done?!_ ” 

Martin’s breath feels funny and his voice cracks when he says, “I’m sorry, I’m, I shouldn’t, I...” 

The one time that he gets to do this, the _one chance_ he has at this, and that is what he does. Martin wants to run away, just leave as fast as he can and then maybe Douglas will forget about it. He turns away, ready to do that, except… 

Douglas touches his arm. 

Martin can hardly feel it over the feeling as if the whole sky is falling over him, but Douglas says, “It happens, Martin.”

Martin looks at Douglas’ hand and snaps, “Does it? Because I don’t think that it does, not to anyone older than _thirteen_ , I think it’s me, it’s always me and, why is it always _me_?” 

Douglas laughs. Genuinely. 

Martin doesn’t want to be laughed at, that’s the very, very last thing he wants. “What?!” 

“...always the extra mile.” 

Douglas is laughing, but it’s not at him, but _with_ him, somehow. As if it’s a thing that happened to the two of them and not just Martin, as if it’s the kind of thing that’s more funny than horrible. Still, Martin feels tension creeping over his spine. He had this one shot, this one chance, and now he’s ruined it. “I’m sorry.” 

“Well, the night’s still young.” Douglas looks at him. He’s still touching his arm, and it feels good. Grounding. “If you want to, that is.” 

“I...” Martin’s not sure what he’s meant to do now. Should he maybe get on his knees and...?

But Douglas leans in, and kisses him again. 

It’s not what he thought would happen. Martin didn’t even think of doing that, because that’s not usually what people do. When he does this, messes it up in some way or other, they usually don’t want to kiss him after. But Douglas is kissing him, so Martin tries to kiss Douglas back, just opens his mouth a little and Douglas hums and kisses on. 

Martin is only following his lead because he hasn’t done a lot of kissing. But he needs to make up for it, Martin knows that for sure, so maybe he can... Martin reaches between Douglas’ legs. 

Douglas tenses, but he doesn’t stop, so Martin fumbles and tries to get Douglas’ fly open. Only that doesn’t work at all while he’s also kissing, so he has to stop and look at his hands to do it. 

Douglas looks down, and says, “You don’t have to.” 

Martin can barely look at Douglas, when there’s this hard, warm thing under his hands, but he replies, a little out of breath, because he knows that it’s true, or at least somewhat - “I’m good at it.” 

“Are you?” Douglas seems unsure, and Martin can understand that because of course Douglas thinks that he isn’t, after what just happened. But after a moment Douglas relaxes, and says, “Well, by all means then.” 

So Martin pulls Douglas’ half-opened trousers down, and then takes his erection in his hand, all warm and heavy. It feels unreal, as if he has seen all the bits of Douglas before but not this one and he’s not sure where it’s been all this time. 

Douglas is still looking tense, as if he thinks it’s strange, too. And Martin wants to say something clever, something really good that will make Douglas laugh all low and deep again and the lines around his eyes crinkle in amusement, but he can’t think of anything. Like always, Martin can’t think of anything that’s good enough. So he gets down on his knees on the hotel carpet, and licks Douglas’ erection. 

He’s thick, and he fills his mouth. 

Martin wasn’t lying, he has done this before. He uses his hand to guide Douglas’ erection between his lips, and it bumps into the roof of his mouth, but he angles his neck. Martin takes him as deep as he can go, and then moves his mouth up and down over him. Douglas doesn’t thrust; he keeps still, so it’s easy to do. Martin’s not choking at all. 

Martin can smell him, too, something deep by his nose. Douglas’ scent is familiar, even though he’s never smelled him like _that_ , he knows it’s him. 

Martin closes his eyes. 

Douglas’ hand settles on his shoulder. Martin thinks that that means speed up, so he does, goes all deep into his throat where it hurts, but Douglas says, “Martin...”

His voice sounds a little off, deep, too. “Martin, stop.”

Martin lets him pop out of his mouth, all wet and hard. What did he do wrong? He looks up at Douglas. Douglas’ cock is standing up, and his shirt is opened, showing a little of his belly. “If you tell me what you want, then I’ll do it, _really_ , just...” _tell me._ Martin can feel a knot in his throat again, _what did I do wrong?_

Douglas’ face softens. “As a pilot you should know that these endeavours are just as much about the journey as they are about the landing.”

Martin blinks. “Well, the landing’s pretty important.” Martin knows that Douglas is being metaphorical, but landings are the most difficult part of learning to fly - 58 percent of all fatal airplane accidents happen during descent, approach or landing. 

Douglas laughs. “Ah, truthfully spoken.” 

Douglas steps back, though, so Martin does too, a little unsure as to what he should do now. But Douglas moves to the bed, and clearly expects him to follow. Martin does. 

Martin is thinking that he can go on like that when they’re on the bed then, but Douglas takes his hand and pulls him to lie next to him. And as soon as Martin is up there with his head on the pillows, Douglas kisses him again. 

Martin is not used to that at all, someone who wants to kiss him that much. But still he leans into Douglas’ touch, he can’t help it, it’s so nice. Douglas’ hands are trailing over his back.

Douglas is a good kisser, too. Martin tries to copy him, slower and faster, deep kisses, gentle ones. It goes on long enough that Martin feels a bit more relaxed. But still there’s something tense at the same time, too, he never, ever wants to stop doing this, but he’s waiting for it to end. For Douglas to push him downwards and then Martin will do that and they’ll never mention this again. 

But that doesn’t happen. After a bit, Martin moves his leg over Douglas’ side, and Douglas tilts his hips while they kiss. He’s still hard, Martin can feel him, hot and right there. 

When they stop and breathe a bit, Douglas brings his hand down between Martin’s legs. Martin nearly pulls away, both because of the shock of it, being touched there, and because he’s still sticky and... also kind of half-hard again. He can’t help it.

Douglas smiles when he finds out, though, and his fingers dance over Martin’s fly as he says, “Ah, to be young again.” 

Which, well, Martin isn’t _that_ young and it really usually doesn’t happen this way at all. But Martin can see that Douglas is kind of glad that he did get hard again, so he doesn’t say anything. 

Douglas opens Martin’s trousers for him and puts his hand in his pants, on Martin’s... and oh, _oh_ , it’s so good, feeling his fingers wrapped around him, moving just a little. “Douglas!”

“Hm.” Douglas’ voice sounds pleased. Close by, near his ear. 

Douglas puts his other hand on Martin’s cheek and presses his lips to his again, briefly. Martin looks up and can see right into his eyes. He feels this strange wave of something warm and tense, and that’s love, Martin thinks, it’s _love_. For Douglas. Whose breath smells a bit like day-old coffee and his neck like weak aftershave and his lips are all red from kissing, and he’s so close by that he’s kind of blurry. 

Martin isn’t sure whether he deserves to see this. Whether he’s good enough. 

Douglas kisses him again, and Martin leans into it because yes, that’s what he wants, too. And then Douglas moves his hand on him as well, pushes the fabric of his pants out of the way and starts doing it for real. And it’s so good that Martin’s mouth opens and all he can think, all he can feel is the firecracker feeling of it, of the little tugs right _there_. So it’s probably not a good kiss, mostly him breathing and trying not to whimper. 

Douglas stops kissing him, and Martin can see Douglas’ eyes on him and his smile as he’s touching him like that. Martin shivers. 

Douglas’ fingers are gripping him a bit too tight, but they’re pulling fast, and Martin feels waves of tingly pleasure, so good, so _very_ … Martin shakes and makes a really strange high sound, and then comes in Douglas’ hand. 

Douglas lets go of him, and Martin just breathes, feeling all shivery and good. He’s not sure if he’s embarrassed or just happy or a lot of both. He’s half-expecting Douglas to push him down straight away now, because Douglas _still_ hasn’t come. But Douglas doesn’t, he wipes his hand with a tissue from the bedside table, and then just lies there, next to him. 

So Martin gets up, and clumsily crawls down the bed, in between Douglas’ legs. He has to do something back, he really has to. 

Martin glances up, and he can see Douglas watching him. Douglas is still hard, luckily, he hasn’t bored him too much. Martin opens his mouth, and licks him. 

Douglas shifts a little on the bed. 

Martin takes him in his mouth, runs his tongue over the head and then down, down. He wants this to be _so_ good. He needs to try to make it great, for Douglas. 

After a bit, Douglas’ hand settles on his head, but doesn’t pull his hair. 

When Martin starts taking him deep in his throat again, Douglas’ hand goes down to the back of his neck, and squeezes there, and that’s really nice. Martin feels a shiver of pleasure at that, and he moans a bit, he can’t help it. It’s muffled by Douglas’ cock in his mouth, but it makes him blush anyway. 

Douglas replies, “Hm… yes.” He starts tasting all sharp and good. 

Martin takes him in deep, and then slides off slowly. He licks the head all messily and eagerly, sucks a little, too, so he can taste him, slick and smooth on his tongue. And then takes him in again. 

Douglas says, sounding as if he’s far away, “Martin, it’s, I’m…”

Martin feels a flash of heat at that, _yes!_ He keeps on going, faster and faster. He can feel Douglas tense, so close, and then there’s bitterness down his throat. Martin sucks in a breath and coughs an abrupt swallow-cough that sort of stings all the way to his nose, but he keeps on going, all the way through. 

And then slows it down, and lets him slip out of his mouth. There’s still come on his tongue so Martin swallows it. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and then looks up. 

Douglas is flushed, but he’s looking at him, too. “Well. You _have_ done that before.” 

Martin’s not sure if it’s a compliment. “I’m not a _virgin_.” He probably says it a little too defensively, he’s never going to be as good as this as Douglas is, Martin knows that, but still, he has done it before. 

“Of course.” Douglas lies down more comfortably. He seems happy, Martin thinks. So he must have done okay, still, in the end. “A bobsled, I remember.” 

Martin is still down by Douglas’ legs, which seems a little weird now, talking to him, so he moves off the bed, and then pulls his trousers up before they fall down. They’re all sticky, and there’s come drying on Martin’s belly and upper legs. His knees are shaking.

Douglas looks at him curiously, “So, were there people in possession of a penis in said bobsled?” 

Oh. “No.” No, Martin didn’t even think of that. “You asked how many ex-girlfriends I had.” 

“Ah, and you left out the boyfriends?” 

Martin feels a flicker of shame. He didn’t. “I’ve never had a boyfriend.” No one who ever wanted him for real. He zips up his trousers. 

“So your knowledge stems from encounters of the more anonymous kind then?” 

Martin nods. That’s what people do who can’t get anyone otherwise - go to a bar and hope that someone will want to... He tucks his shirt in quickly. He can take a shower later in the room, Arthur will never notice. 

Martin knows why Douglas is asking him that, though. He looks at him. “It’s fine, I know how this works, I won’t tell. Anyone. I won’t mention it again.” He tries not to sound sad. It _is_ what he wanted. Really, it is. 

Douglas waves it away. “Oh, I wasn’t worried about that.” 

Douglas seems fairly composed already, even though he’s still lying on the bed with his trousers down. It’s kind of unfair, Martin thinks, because now Douglas knows how easily he… how much he really wanted that. And Douglas might not go so far as to tease him about it, but it’s always going to be there, one more thing for Douglas to be smug about. 

Douglas eyes him, and says, “I was thinking more that I wouldn’t be opposed to a repeat performance.” He sits up.

Martin doesn’t understand for a second, and then it seems to burst through his stomach. “You want to… um, _again_? With me?”

“Only if you’re interested, of course. Wouldn’t want to presume.” Douglas says it as easily as if they’re discussing lunch, and stands up to close his trousers. 

Martin says, quickly, “Yes. Yes! Yes, I would like to. Yes. Again. Whenever you want to.” He feels a swirling sensation at the thought alone, and again that, somehow, this can’t be real. 

Douglas is smiling smugly at his reaction, but Martin doesn’t care. Everyone probably feels that way after they’ve been kissed and touched by _Douglas_. 

Douglas shrugs out of his jacket, and lays it on the bed. “Well then. Consider yourself propositioned.” 

Martin looks down at his feet so it’s not too obvious, but he feels stunned. His heart is beating kind of fast again. Or it still is, he doesn’t know. Martin knows that he should go now. He looks around for his hat, but no, he wasn’t wearing it to begin with, it’s in the room. So he has no reason to stay any longer. 

He looks towards the door. 

And then towards Douglas. Douglas, who wants to do this again, who just _said so_ , and he might change his mind later, but… Martin walks over to him. Douglas said so. He said he wanted it. So Martin leans close - he can see a moment of surprise from Douglas – and then he kisses him on the mouth, really quickly. 

It’s more of a peck, really. It’s nowhere near as good a kiss as they’ve kissed before, but Martin can feel himself blush anyway. 

Douglas opens his mouth to say something, but Martin is already walking away now, fast. He tries to open the door, forgetting that it’s locked, and then undoes it and leaves as quickly as he can. Because he’s sure that if he does even one more thing, then he’s going to mess it up and somehow make Douglas change his mind, and Martin doesn’t want him to. He really, really doesn’t want him to. 

And then Martin’s closing the door behind him and he’s in the corridor again. It seems like a whole different world. 

Like he’d forgotten that there was anything outside the door at all. 

Martin walks to the left, reaches the lifts, and then remembers that the room that he is sharing with Arthur is the other way, actually, so he turns around and walks past Douglas’ room _again_. The busy pattern of the carpet is dancing before his eyes. 

Martin knocks on the door of their room. Arthur opens it, already talking, “Oh, hey, Skip, where have you been? I thought that maybe you’d be outside but then it’s so late so…” 

Martin lets Arthur’s voice wash over him. He even replies to some of it while he opens his carry-on and takes his pyjamas and toiletries and goes to the bathroom, but as soon as he’s said something he doesn’t remember what it was. At all. 

Martin locks the door. He can see himself in the tiny mirror, and he looks awful in the fluorescent light, his mouth is red and there are patches of colour on his cheeks. 

He just had sex with Douglas. 

Martin can feel it in his legs, still. They’re shaky. In the back of his throat, swallowing hurts a bit. 

Martin strips off his clothes, and remembers Douglas’ touches and what happened, and he feels shame and a bright rush of happiness all in one. 

He takes a shower and then goes to bed while Arthur chatters a bit more about featherdown pillows, and Martin doesn’t listen, just looks at the ceiling, and… thinks. 

Because, well, he has been in love with Douglas for a very long time. 

But it’s always been okay. Easy, really, because Douglas was just too good, and it would never happen, so it was safe except… 

Now it did. Happen. 

Now Douglas wants to do it again, too. And it’s going to go wrong in some way or other, Martin already knows that. But he can’t help but feel this hot ball of tension and warmth in his stomach, because... 

_Douglas._

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

Douglas is not entirely certain how it happened. 

Oh, he has always been able to draw the opposite sex - or at least that was true in the late seventies and eighties, when he was a freshly-minted pilot and in uniform, traversing the world one smile at a time. All it took back then was an inviting gaze, a smashing pair of legs or breasts or arse, a low-cut dress, a bottle of whiskey... Douglas was never all that discerning as long as there was something good to be shared. 

And share he did. 

And then a marriage and a divorce, another marriage, a more-than-healthy dependency on alcohol, and well. It all went away rather fast after that. 

Douglas hasn’t had anyone look at him like they want him in quite a long time. 

Of course, he was married again for the last eight years. And that was the plan, with the third wife: no kids - Douglas would have wanted more, actually, but she never did, so no kids - a nice house, and it was supposed to be for life. They were going to grow old together. Douglas didn’t even cheat on her. Not once. 

Didn’t drink, either. 

And then she found something better in the Tai Chi teacher, really, the _Tai Chi teacher_ , and then that was done as well. So now there’s nothing left, except for his daughter, Verity. Who is marvellous, but who he hardly ever gets to see. And the job, the small, insignificant job at MJN that is probably the best thing Douglas has, because at least there he’s needed, and wanted, and they wouldn’t survive a week without him, so there’s that. 

And there’s Martin. 

Douglas didn’t intend to fall for Martin. He didn’t suddenly wake up wanting him, he didn’t a year in, or two years in, or three, it’s been a gradual shift between ‘totally insignificant colleague’ to ‘partner-in-schemes’, and - all right - his best friend. But he never thought that they would do _that_. 

Douglas is a sky god, naturally, but heavily inclined towards the fairer sex. Near-exclusively, in fact. Also, he’s been celibate for the last couple of years because his wife, well. No one needs to know that. 

But one would need either an awful lot of imagination or inebriation to call Martin _seductive_. 

Douglas did have a faint suspicion that maybe Martin was a bit more inclined towards men himself. Douglas had already been prepared for Martin to come out accidentally in some way or other, and then to tease him gently and reassure him that truly, it’s fine. 

And then Martin did gather some confidence, eventually. But what he did with it was… well. He started looking at him. 

Oh, maybe it had been going on for a while and Douglas never noticed, but suddenly, Martin was making small, awkward jokes. 

Smiling for just a second too long. 

Glancing at him from the corner of his eyes, as if he was something really, really good that he wasn’t supposed to be looking at. 

Douglas had ignored it at first, disbelieving that Martin would ever consider him that way. _Martin._ Who is a whole generation younger than him, and while probably a great deal less experienced, the benefit of youth is unparalleled. There are a good twenty-odd years between them. 

But eventually, Douglas started to press back a little. Tint his jokes a little differently. Just to see, he told himself. Just out of curiosity. Just because, let’s be honest, no one else was ever going to flush like that again for him. 

But in holding his eye just a little too long… Douglas started to consider it. The ‘let’s see if we could spend a night together’, which Douglas assumed was what Martin was trying to communicate in his Crieff-like way. But he still didn’t think it would happen - a kiss, maybe, where Martin would flush and run away and it would never be mentioned again, but not actual _sex_ \- until it did. 

It wasn’t anything explosive. Douglas didn’t even want to get off as much as he wanted to kiss Martin, just once. Tell him that he was indeed interested to some extent, but really, it would be a terrible idea, knowing how closely they work together. How it’s bound to get awkward.

So Douglas kissed him back, just once, but then Martin held onto him, and looked at him as if it was the single most spectacular thing to ever happen to him. As if it was his deepest desire suddenly realised, and Douglas could not say no to that. 

Who could have, really? 

So he took Martin to bed and it was rather tentative in a way that first times always tend to be, but Douglas did enjoy it. Martin was just as eager as he’d thought he’d be. Innocent in a lot of ways, but experienced, too. Insecure, and knowing what to do anyway. So obviously overwhelmed, but _happy_. 

Douglas assumed it would be a one-time thing throughout. 

But then at the end... it was Martin’s expression that did it. Martin’s too-easy-to-read face slowly shutting down on all the elation and surprise and wonder. He was clearly resigning himself to never speak of it again, and Douglas didn’t want to see him do that. Douglas wanted to say something that would make Martin smile again, so he promised him a repeat before he was even out of the room. 

Which was probably not the most inspired idea. 

Douglas has done it often enough in the past, after all. One might have called him the master of the one-night stand: seduce them and leave them. But Douglas wanted this to be something where he could look Martin in the eye afterwards. 

Oh, it will be short-term no matter what, Douglas is aware of that. But he wants it to feel good, for Martin. Something that leaves him feeling happy. Appreciated. 

The morning after, Martin is, as expected, a mess of nervous twitches. Along with a really obvious and wooden attempt at being professional, he seems desperately scared. So Douglas gets Martin alone as soon as he can, and tells him, “Martin, relax.” 

And later, when they’re in the air, Douglas leans over and kisses him. Which, it turns out - and yes, Douglas has spent some quality time in his seat wondering - he can do from where they both sit in GERTI, provided that Martin leans in as well. And, fine, there is some equipment in the way, but it works at making Martin smile as if he’s just done something _unbelievably great_. Predictably, Martin gives a speech later about air safety regulations, but Douglas can tell that he liked it by how he’s still blushing throughout. 

Four days later, they’re spending the night in a hotel in Belarus. 

When it’s time to go to bed, Martin tells Arthur in quick succession that he’s going to a non-existent hotel gym, (Arthur wants to come along), for a walk, (Arthur still wants to come along), to the bathroom, (Arthur asks if he’s all right and if he should come along), and then that he has ‘a thing that he needs to do, a pilot thing, only for pilots, captains alone’, and that he’ll be back to the room later. Which is a terrible lie. 

Douglas says a cheery good night to Arthur as well, and goes up to his room. 

And Martin sneaks in. 

Douglas had assumed that, upon reflection, perhaps Martin wouldn’t be quite so into this. That he would try to awkwardly tell him that once was enough, really. But instead Martin reaches for him as if it’s been weeks instead of four days, impatient for his touch. 

It’s astonishingly flattering. 

Kissing while standing up exaggerates their difference in height, Douglas tilts Martin’s chin towards him, and he leads the kiss into a long, drawn-out encounter. When they part, Martin looks at him with such joy that Douglas draws him in again, and again, until Martin is moaning.

Until Martin is rubbing himself against him just a tad desperately, and gasping into his ear. 

So Douglas opens Martin’s jacket buttons, and then starts on his shirt. Martin catches on, opens the buttons on his shirt fast, shrugs it off along with his jacket, and drops it to the floor. 

He is thin. Slight, really. Martin’s blush goes all the way down to his chest. Douglas leans over and kisses Martin’s neck. Martin’s shoulder. Martin’s chest. Douglas licks a nipple and Martin twitches, and then pushes at him to stop, says, “Um, don’t, maybe not too much or otherwise I’ll…”

Ah. Otherwise it’ll be over too fast. Douglas thought that it was nerves and overexcitement the first time, and he knows that Martin’s ashamed of it, but to be honest it is also _terribly_ gratifying. He feels as if he only has to breathe in Martin’s direction to make him whimper. As if he could get him off with nothing but a touch and a well-placed word of encouragement. 

But still, Douglas takes a step back and stops touching him for now. 

Martin undresses. He opens the button and zip of his trousers, showing a hint of his thigh and white pants as he lowers them. He forgot that he was still wearing shoes, so he has to untie those first, his trousers spanning his ankles. 

Douglas sits down on the bed, and watches him, aware that he has very little practical experience with men. He is quite confident that he can bluff his way through all of it, though, no matter what they do. How different can it truly be? Plus, it’s Martin. 

Martin fumbles with his shoelaces, and then toes the shoes off without untying the laces after all. Then his trousers slide down over his legs, and he, blushing even more wildly, pulls the elastic of his pants down over his erection, and then steps out of them. 

He hasn’t taken off his socks. 

Martin turns towards him, and he is trying hard to be sexy, Douglas can tell. But he is also very obviously searching for his approval, and so Douglas says, warmth colouring his voice, “You wear those freckles very well.”

It doesn’t help in making Martin appear any less stressed. He looks down at himself. “I, ah, I have them all over, it’s… I’m sorry.” 

Douglas stands up, moves close, and Martin’s expression changes into relief when he pulls him in again. Douglas whispers, “It’s a compliment, Martin.” 

Martin shudders under his touch, and Douglas leans down towards his neck, kisses it, and says, “I could kiss every single one.” 

Martin looks at him as if he barely believes what he’s hearing. “Really?” 

“Oh, yes.” Douglas did just mean it as a compliment, but he likes the utterly astonished way Martin is looking at him. _Has no one ever tried to compliment him in bed?_ “I would have to start on top, perhaps work my way down in a linear pattern - mind you, it would take a while. But I do believe that it can be done.” 

Martin says, endearingly quietly, “You would do that?”

Douglas gathers him in his arms and says into his ear, “Just watch me.” He plans to at least make a start of it, but Martin kisses him again, and Douglas loses himself in it for a moment or two, in the warm, naked form of Martin against his chest, so familiar and new at the same time. The way his arms fit around Martin’s shoulders, his mouth fits against Martin’s lips. How they can arouse and comfort and please one another. 

Douglas trails a curious hand over Martin’s back, over the nubs of his spine, ending down on the curve of his buttocks, and feels Martin’s breath stutter. Ah, yes. 

Douglas slowly squeezes. Martin tenses and moans. Then Douglas lets go, and Martin breathes out fast, his eyes on his. 

“Come on.” Douglas leads him to the bed, and Martin follows, his erection pointing towards his stomach eagerly even as he walks. 

Douglas lies down, and Martin does so as well, next to him, and then looks at him. So far Martin has not questioned at all why Douglas hasn’t undressed, and while he might go there if needed... Douglas feels rather aware of his own physique when seeing Martin’s taut stomach. The echo of his ribs visible, his hip bones sticking out, his iliac crest so wonderfully defined. Martin’s cock is thin and somewhat small, but standing up red and proud. 

And highly responsive. Douglas is hesitant to touch him too much, actually, assuming that he doesn’t want it to be over in a minute again. So he touches Martin’s chest, first. Douglas runs his hand over it, and he can see Martin’s whole body tense, can hear his sigh, and see his cock leak a little against his stomach. 

Douglas asks, “Are you always this inclined towards a _speedy release_?” He’s not sure how much of a problem it really is, and how much is just excitement. 

It takes Martin a moment to respond, and he looks mortified, but he says, “Not always. It depends.” 

On whom he is in bed with? Douglas can hardly flatter himself that way, he assumes. Martin obviously does have experience, no doubt with men much younger and more attractive than himself. So he says, “On how long it’s been?” 

Douglas trails a finger over Martin’s nipple, and Martin tenses beautifully. “It, aaaah! Yes, sometimes.” 

“Hmm.” Douglas pretends to think about it, but mainly he is enjoying this immensely, he has not had this response from a partner in such a very long time. Someone who trembles at his touch. “Then we’ll have to figure out what we can do.” 

“Oh, everything.” Martin says it with conviction. “It’s fine if I… finish, it’s, I’ll do anything after, too.” He means it. He has probably meant it often, Douglas thinks, he felt it when Martin blew him, taking him deep and hard immediately. Martin, _who would have guessed_ , is used to having his mouth fucked. It makes Douglas’ stomach turn just thinking about it. The idea of some man just pushing into Martin’s mouth. Not even someone who cares for him, probably, just some anonymous fuck taking advantage of him. 

Douglas touches Martin gently, his hand hovering over Martin’s skin. His chest, shoulders, collar bones. It makes Martin shiver, goose bumps appearing all over his skin. Douglas trails over Martin’s arm, down to Martin’s hip, then his upper leg - making him twitch - his knee, then up again, not entirely certain what he _can_ do. Martin is looking at what he is doing, but allowing him, absolutely trusting him, and Douglas can feel that sit in his chest. “You’ll have to tell me when you’re close.”

“Yes, I will. Tell you.” 

Douglas runs two fingers from the bump of Martin’s knee up over Martin’s upper legs. He does not linger, going up over his cock, over the head that’s smooth and slick, and Martin sucks in a breath and rises from the bed. Then Douglas trails his hand further up, over Martin’s chest, his neck... 

Martin looks down, and kisses his fingers. 

Douglas had not expected him to do that, nor did he think it would be so arousing. Martin’s gentle lips on his fingers. Martin’s tongue flicks out, and runs between them, soft. 

Douglas is hard himself, but this is not about him, not yet. Still, Douglas shifts closer on the mattress, and lies flush to Martin’s side. 

He repeats the same movement with his hand, downwards now, back over Martin’s chest, his belly, to Martin’s oh-so-eager erection, making him gasp. Douglas smiles, and traces up again, over his chest. Martin is looking at him, following his every move. 

Douglas does not wait this time, trails back down over his belly. Martin’s cock rises to meet his hand, and Douglas briefly takes it in his hand and squeezes it, making Martin swallow, and then lets go again. On the next pass Douglas gives him a couple of pulls, and stops right before it’s too much, as he sees Martin’s back arch, and his mouth open, “Stop, D..”

“Hm. Do feel free to scream my name in the throes of passion.” Douglas can hear the arousal in his own voice. He has always liked talking during sex. 

Martin glances at him. So with his hand trailing over Martin’s belly, making his muscles jump, Douglas checks, “You are enjoying this?”

“Yes, yes! I like it, I do, it’s, your hand on me, it’s _amazing_.” Martin bites his lip. 

…then again, not talking might never be an issue with Martin. Douglas smiles, and says, “So I would assume that you want me to keep on going?” Douglas traces in between Martin’s legs again, and this time lightly scratches his upper thigh. 

Martin makes a shaky sound, “Aaaah… yes. Yes.” And, without a trace of irony, says, “ _Please_ , Douglas.” 

Hm, that is enjoyable indeed. Douglas can’t help but think that Martin likes this, to have someone else take the wheel, to have him be in charge of making him feel good. It’s making _Douglas_ feel rather good as well. 

“Or would you rather I do this?” Douglas leans in, and sucks one of Martin’s nipples, just lightly. 

But it makes Martin inhale sharply, his chest rise, and say, “Close, stop, stop…” 

Martin is breathing shallowly. Martin’s eyes are shining with arousal, his cock has made a small puddle of precome on his belly now and twitches as he watches it. Douglas can feel the heat build in his own groin looking at it. Douglas takes Martin’s hand, tangles their fingers, and, with a look at him, presses it between his own legs. Martin’s eyes widen as he feels how hard he is. 

Martin runs his hand over him, squeezes him through his trousers, and says, breathlessly, “You, um, like it, too?”

“Oh, absolutely.” It’s not as if he can lie, Martin is currently rubbing his palm over his very interested erection. And Douglas has never been shy about complimenting whoever has made the very well-founded choice of being in bed with him, so he says, “You are, as one might say, _brilliant_.” 

Martin actually laughs. It’s nervous and a bit shaky, but he laughs, “Are you quoting Arthur?”

“I suppose. One might call him the greatest romantic mind of our age.” 

It’s distracting Martin a bit, talking, he’s visibly relaxing. “…or the biggest klutz.” 

Douglas’ cock is still covered by his trousers but the scratch of the fabric combined with the pressure of Martin’s hand is delicious. “The two are not mutually exclusive. In fact, when it comes to romance, the less brain involved the better.”

Martin smiles. “Are you saying that you need to be stupid to fall in love?” 

Douglas didn’t mean to open his trousers yet, but Martin’s hand on him feels rather enticing, so he opens his zip, and sort of wiggles and pulls until his trousers and pants are down just enough. He says, quietly, “Oh, trust me, you do.”

Martin wraps a hand around him immediately. “Hm,” Douglas shifts his hips towards Martin’s hand. 

Martin is looking down at what he is doing with a fascinated expression, so Douglas leans forward, and touches his cheek to kiss him again. 

Martin has caught on now; he’s not nearly as startled as he was in the beginning when Douglas tried to kiss him. Now Martin returns the kiss, while at the same time moving his hand, pulling him off, a bit shyly, but not inexpertly. Douglas can almost imagine himself coming like this, making out on the bed like a teenager. 

He does pull back, though. Takes a breath before that’s a possibility, and touches Martin’s hand to stop him. “Lie back.”

Martin does it instantly, and Douglas watches him. Lying there, his breaths just a little fast and shallow. His thin body. 

Douglas returns to touching him wherever he can reach, and Martin seems to find all of it arousing. Douglas takes Martin’s nipple between two fingers, pulls it, and Martin sucks in a breath. Douglas leans towards him and licks the side of his neck, and Martin gasps. 

As Douglas’ fingers come near his crotch Martin says, sounding out of breath, “Close.” 

So Douglas uses his flat hand then, runs it over his chest like that, just feeling the skin, the texture and hairs and heat. But Martin’s still breathing as if he can’t help being near coming, and oh, it’s such a rush. Douglas is not certain that there’s any way left to touch him that does not make him shake, so he says, “You want to come?” 

“ _Please._ ” 

Martin says it so breathily, so sweetly, that Douglas wants him to keep him talking, too, so Douglas leans near his ear, and says, “And how do you want me to do that?”

Martin’s head falls back, and he says, “Anything, if you touch me, anywhere, I will.” 

It’s true, as well. Douglas turns more towards Martin, and, impulsively, wraps an arm around him. 

Martin turns onto his side, and Douglas pulls him close so Martin’s cock is rubbing against his own half-bare hip. Martin thrusts in reflex; Douglas puts a hand on his back and then squeezes his arse. “Like this?”

And yes, Martin thrusts, and whimpers into his ear, “Oh, oh, ooooh!” and he is coming, hot and wet over his side and stomach, rubbing himself through it. Douglas tightens his arms around him, and holds him there, strokes his back. 

After a couple of shaky breaths Martin leans back a bit, and lets some space in between them. He looks down, and says, a little hoarsely, “Your shirt, sorry, Douglas…”

Martin seems ashamed, and that makes Douglas even more inclined to tell him that it’s all right. “Oh, I have a spare.”

Douglas thinks to kiss him again, but Martin’ hand travels down between their bodies, sure in its destination now, squeezes, and Douglas’ own desire flares sharply. 

Martin moves down on the bed, and then takes him into his mouth. 

It’s immediate heat and suction, and Douglas doesn’t hold back. He can’t last through that, and more than that, he doesn’t want to. 

Douglas looks down at it, at the sight of Martin with his lips stretched around his cock. Douglas touches Martin’s hair, hears his soft sounds as he sucks, and he allows himself to spill into Martin’s mouth. 

Martin swallows and licks and stays there, keeping him in his mouth well after Douglas has come. It is touching, as if he does not want to stop. 

When he does let go, Martin smiles. 

Then gets up, away from the bed, and starts looking for his clothes. Because he needs to go back to his room, and Douglas feels a faint level of jealousy for _Arthur_ , of all people. He would quite like to keep Martin here all night. Still, Martin is looking properly impressed, Douglas thinks. He suppresses the urge to ask him whether he had fun. It seems rather obvious. 

Douglas gets up himself, much slower than Martin did. He pulls his trousers back up. Waits until Martin’s dressed again, and, remembering last time, walks over to him 

Martin looks as if he is about to make some sort of tongue-tied last remark, so Douglas puts a hand on Martin’s shoulder, leans down, and kisses him. Chastely, just a press of lips. “Good night.”

Martin looks at him and seems so surprised, so stunningly pleased by a tiny little kiss, that it’s almost hard to watch. “Good night, Douglas.” 

He leaves. 

As soon as he’s gone, Douglas takes his shirt off, and washes the stains out in the sink. He doesn’t actually have a spare. 

He sleeps around the wet spot.

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

A month later, they’re in Rome. 

They’ve settled into some sort of rhythm, now. No kissing while they’re flying, Martin had to be really resolute about that after the first time. Because when Douglas did it - leaned over while they were in the air and pulled him to the side - Martin was so distracted by it that he absolutely and completely forgot that he was flying at all. And that’s not safe, so no, not while they’re flying. 

They haven’t kissed like that again. Martin feels a bit sorry for being so strict about that, now. They can’t, they really can’t while they’re in the air, but there are loads of other times where they could. In airports. In the Fitton office. In the car, when waiting for a client. Martin looks at Douglas so many times, and thinks, ‘now we could.’

But they only kiss in hotel rooms, and with the door locked. 

MJN tends to have a week or more in between flights where they’re actually staying in a hotel at night, so they’ve only been together four times in total now. In a month. 

Which is still a lot, but Martin would like a lot more. Which is greedy, so he shouldn’t want it. But he does think about it. All the time. 

Of course, Martin can’t ask Douglas over to where he lives, he has a single bed in a tiny attic room, Douglas wouldn’t like it at all. Martin doesn’t want him to see it, either. 

And Douglas hasn’t asked Martin to his home. 

Maybe because it was Douglas’ wife’s home, too, although they’ve been divorced for a while now. Martin does know that for sure, Martin would never… well, if Douglas wasn’t divorced, Martin wouldn’t do what they’re doing now. 

Martin’s not sure what they are, though. What they’re doing. 

Because it’s more than just having sex - Martin thinks so, at least. It’s talking, and joking, too. And kissing. Slow, careful kisses. Teasing ones. Deep, full ones when they’re lying in bed together. Heated ones when they’re touching each other, and breathing hard, and… those are Martin’s favourites. 

And there’s always the kiss goodbye, after. Martin started that by accident the first time because he was so nervous and he didn’t know what else to do, but now Douglas is making it a point to kiss him goodbye every time. And Martin can always feel that clench in his stomach because it’s so _real_. Maybe that last kiss always feels the most important because it’s the one that doesn’t have anything to do with sex. It’s a kiss that says ‘thank you’, and ‘until next time’, and ‘I liked it’. And well, for Martin, it also means ‘I love you.’

Every kiss means ‘I love you.’ 

Every touch does, in those rooms. But also when they’re flying together, or talking, or anything, every moment Martin spends with Douglas has something huge and tense and amazing behind it now. And Martin is pretty sure that he can’t hope for anything more than what he already has, but he can’t help but want more. 

And now they’re in Rome. 

Arthur didn’t come along, and neither did Carolyn, so Martin and Douglas are actually sharing a room tonight. Douglas complained to Carolyn about that just as much as he always does, but Martin is already flustered with anticipation. 

They walk up several flights of stairs, and open the door to an outdated and stuffy room. There are twin beds, pushed together to make a double, and a faded bedspread with brown and orange flowers. 

Douglas steps in and says, “Well, it’s not the Garibaldi, at least.” 

“It’s… nice.” 

The windows aren’t soundproofed at all and they can hear shouting and car horns on the street. The curtains are a shade of beige that seems mostly dirt. 

“ _Nice_ might be an overstatement.” Douglas sighs. 

Martin still doesn’t know what to say, exactly, when they’re nearly together, but not quite. When it’s between Douglas-at-work and Douglas-in-bed. He puts his carry-on in the corner, while Douglas says, “Ah, but I did steal some massage oil from that hotel where we dropped Mrs. Heljb. Your back’s still sore?” 

Martin turns around. “No, not… much.” Martin’s not sure how Douglas even knows about that. He had to move a whole bunch of boxes a couple of days ago. Douglas didn’t say anything then, so Martin hadn’t thought that he’d noticed. Or would have cared if he had. 

“Hm, come here, I’ll give it a go.” Douglas closes the curtains, and turns on the small bedside light. He takes off his jacket, and then rolls up his sleeves. “Not to toot my own horn, but I really am _very good_.”

Martin can’t remember ever having had a massage. But it does seem like a thing that people would do, together. Couples. Martin takes off his jacket, and shirt. And then, well, his trousers, and, with a look at Douglas, his pants, too. It feels a bit weird, like this, he’s not even really… 

Douglas is looking at him all warm, though, so that helps a little. “Lie down.” 

Martin pulls the awful bedcover off, and then crawls onto the bed, and lies down on his stomach. He’s not sure why he’s a bit nervous. Douglas is putting the massage oil on his hands. It smells like pine. 

Douglas says, “Move a little closer,” and then puts his warm, slippery hands on him.

Martin starts a little. But then Douglas makes a long, slow movement with both his hands from his shoulders all the way over his back and down, and, “Oh!”

“Yes, I thought so.”

Martin can feel goose bumps crawling over his back, and shudders with pleasure. 

Douglas’ hands rub back up, and Martin moans because it feels so good. His back does ache, all of his muscles there actually, only he hadn’t noticed it that much, but now every ache and twinge is being pressed into and then rubbed away. “Aaaah…”

Douglas chuckles. “Like it, do you?”

“Oh, it’s _great_...” Martin bites his tongue. _Wonderful, amazing, perfect._

Douglas moves his hands back up to his shoulders, then his neck, which makes Martin shiver all over again. And then down, his hands digging into his shoulders. Lower, to his ribcage and lower back, where the pressure tilts Martin’s hips and he moans again, he can’t help it. 

And then Douglas’ thumbs start making little circles over his tailbone, and Martin makes a high sound, “Oh!”

“You like that.” Douglas always sounds as if _he_ likes it, when he gets to say that. 

Martin can barely talk like this, with Douglas’ fingers right _there_. “Um, I...” 

They haven’t done that yet. Nothing like it, actually. So far it’s all been hands and Martin using his mouth and kissing. And he’s never, well, Martin’s never done it, but he wants to. With Douglas. 

Douglas runs his hand over his arse, and Martin goes still and he can’t breathe and it feels hot, all of a sudden. 

And then Douglas’ hand moves away, back to his lower back, and shoulders, and that feels great, too. Martin is waiting for him to go downwards again, but he doesn’t. Instead, Douglas keeps on rubbing his back for a while more, and then says, “Turn around?” 

Martin turns. There are probably red lines all over his face and chest from lying on the sheets. He knows that he’s blushing, again. 

Douglas’ eyes travel over him, and Martin thinks that maybe Douglas is going to ask, and he’s going to say yes. But Douglas leans in, carefully, and presses a soft kiss to his lips. 

Martin pulls Douglas, hard, so he falls onto the bed. Douglas huffs in surprise. He is very heavy lying over him that way, pushing Martin into the mattress, Martin _loves_ it. He wants to keep him there, but Douglas rolls off him, and then kisses him again. 

Softly. He takes his time. Douglas’ hands are still a bit massage-oily, but Martin doesn’t care. He moves his face under Douglas’ hand, kisses his wrist, and then the side of his thumb. Douglas moves closer until they’re lying pressed together, and Martin is so glad that they’re together, he can feel it gather in his chest. Happiness. This is what he wants to do, all the time, if only… Martin sighs deeply, and settles closer.

Douglas strokes his back the way he likes to do, and Martin thinks that he’s starting to know what Douglas likes now, he knows what Douglas is like in bed, and just the thought alone is overwhelming. Douglas is still touching his shoulders, dragging his thumbs on the muscle, back and forth, and it feels good. Relaxing. 

Martin presses his face to Douglas’ chest, and breathes in deeply. 

“Hmm…” Douglas’ voice is a rumble underneath his cheek, and Martin wants to stay like this for the whole night. 

But that’s not... they should have sex. Martin leans back, and glances at Douglas. Martin really would like to see him naked, actually. He hasn’t so far. Only a bit of Douglas’ upper legs, and the lower bit of his belly. Martin wants to see, and to feel his skin against his. But he doesn’t know if Douglas wants to do that.

Martin reaches out, a little nervous, and touches the top button on Douglas’s shirt. He looks at Douglas, and then opens it. 

Douglas doesn’t stop him, so Martin lets his fingers slide down, and he opens the next small, white button. When he pulls it through the little hole it reveals a triangle of skin, and some grey hairs. Martin looks at Douglas again. “Is this okay?” 

He doesn’t have to do this. Whatever Douglas wants is good. 

Douglas eyes him. “Martin, I’m not young, nor… _springy_.” He sighs. “But yes, go ahead.” 

Martin opens another button, and another. Douglas’ shirt is tucked into his trousers so it doesn’t fall open completely, but Martin can see his chest now. It has wiry grey hairs over it, and Martin runs his hand through them curiously. They pull his fingers a little. 

Martin puts his hand under the fabric of Douglas’ shirt, and traces his finger over the small nub of nipple. Martin feels it get a little harder under his touch. He leans in, and puts his mouth close. 

Douglas breathes out a long breath. 

Martin kisses his chest, and the hairs tickle his lips. Douglas pulls his shirt out of his trousers, and opens it fully. Martin can see the curve of his belly now, and he puts his hands on it curiously. He leans in and runs his mouth over Douglas’ nipple, it feels bigger under his lips. He worries it with his tongue. 

“Martin…” Douglas sounds quiet, now. 

Martin looks up, and, feeling brave, he pushes Douglas back a bit so that he’s flat on his back, and then sits over him with a leg on each side. 

Douglas’ chest is moving up and down fast. Martin leans down, and kisses there again, right over where Douglas’ heart is. Then Douglas’ neck, Martin licks there a little and scrapes his teeth, and he can hear the hitch in Douglas’ breath. Then he runs his lips over his nipple again, and sucks it. 

Martin leans down a bit more, over Douglas’ belly, and kisses the skin, then splays his fingers on Douglas’ trousers. He can feel the beginnings of his erection there, warm and hard under his fingers. He lingers there, feeling unsure, somehow, of what Douglas will want.

Martin knows what _he_ wants, he wants to see Douglas naked. He didn’t know how very, very much he wanted it until now. 

Martin opens Douglas’ trousers. He fumbles with the button a bit, and Douglas moves with him to get them down, but it’s hard to get them off with Martin sitting over him like that. Douglas quietly huffs a laugh, and then sits up more to get them off, so Martin moves off him. 

Douglas stands, and quickly takes his shoes off, his trousers, his pants, his shirt. He takes his socks off, too, and Martin suddenly realises that he’s never seen Douglas’ feet before. Martin’s not sure how that’s possible, but he hasn’t. They’re large, with a well-defined arch and toes. Douglas’ legs are long, his thighs heavy, and between them a patch of dark hair, shot with silver. His penis is thick and filled out, but not fully hard yet. Douglas’ stomach is round and heavy, and Martin can feel the sight take his breath away. He wants to touch him so much. 

When Douglas gets back on the bed, Martin lies next to him, thrilled at the shock of feeling Douglas’ skin against his own. Douglas’ hands come up and stroke his back. Martin kisses him, and tilts his hips against Douglas’ warm thigh. He can feel Douglas’ erection, too. It makes something hot tense in his stomach. 

Douglas kisses Martin’s neck and sucks a little there, and Martin touches Douglas’ erection. He presses his own to Douglas’ belly and rubs against it. And lets out a broken sound, “Oh!” 

“Martin…” Douglas sounds nicely out of breath. 

_I love you_ , Martin thinks, aware of how close he is to saying it. And that he shouldn’t think that, that he can’t. Instead Martin just kisses him again, all deep and heated now. Douglas wraps his arms around him and pulls him close. 

Douglas’ hands go over his arse, and Martin feels his whole body _throb_ with want, so he says, fast, into Douglas’ neck, “Stop, close…”

But Douglas says, “I want you to come like this. Can you?”

Martin breathes, “Yes.” He thrusts against him, and kisses him again. Douglas holds him so close that he can barely get enough friction, but it doesn’t matter because it’s so good. Now he’s not holding back, but trying to come, every movement is pushing him higher, every breath. Martin can feel himself starting to shake. 

“Martin…” Douglas sounds all hoarse as he says it into his ear.

“Oh, I…” Martin can feel it press and tense, pulled in so close to Douglas, every movement, every thrust, runs through both of them. And Martin gives into it, comes with Douglas pressed to him, so warm and great.

Martin shakes a bit more, and then stills. 

Douglas hasn’t come yet, Martin can feel Douglas’ erection hard against his thigh. He lies there for just a moment more, his heart thudding hard in his chest, still, and then sits up. Martin wants to move further down the bed and take Douglas into his mouth, like they’ve done every time, but Douglas stops him. “Your hand?”

Martin’s a little surprised. “Okay.” He lies back down again, and takes Douglas in his hand. He squeezes him a bit, and then Douglas pulls him in to kiss him again. 

It takes some minutes, kissing and Martin pulling him off, trying to go harder and slower, faster and lighter. When Douglas finally comes, Martin can feel the hot wetness in his hand, hear Douglas’ deep sigh, and he feels as if he did something incredible. 

Something really, really special. 

They lie there, and don’t say anything. But Martin can feel the warmth of what they just did radiate through him, and he feels perfect, lying there in Douglas’ arms. Whole.

After a while, Douglas says, “I’m thinking a shower is in order.” And he gets up. 

Martin watches Douglas move around the bed, and go to the bathroom, all naked. There’s not a lot of light in the room but Martin can see him well enough, and he can’t help staring. Martin knows that Douglas is not pretty, really, or young, he does know that, but it’s _Douglas_. He’s the best thing he’s ever seen. Ever. 

Douglas closes the door of the bathroom behind him, and Martin can hear the shower turn on. He feels a bit cold now, but he doesn’t want to pull the covers over him, he’s sticky all over, both from the massage oil still, and well, the… Douglas came on his belly. 

Martin gets up, finds a tissue to wipe himself off a bit, and starts collecting his clothes. Douglas’, too. Martin carefully folds both their trousers, and hangs their shirts over hangers in the wardrobe. Their jackets, too. Douglas’ hat is on the side and Martin holds it, for a moment. 

Then he gathers their socks and underwear, and puts Douglas’ by Douglas’ suitcase, and his own in his, that’s for the laundry at home. 

Douglas is still showering, so Martin goes back to Douglas’ jacket, and traces the fabric. He leans in, and smells it. Quickly. Just a little. It smells like Douglas’ cologne, some smoke, and sharp sweat. Martin can feel the scent settle in his belly. He would like to wear the jacket, maybe, but he doesn’t dare to. 

The shower turns off, and Martin hurries to the other side of the room so that Douglas won’t know what he did, but then he hears the running of the tap, and the scratching of a toothbrush. A couple of minutes later Douglas comes out with a towel wrapped around himself, and says, “Beware, the water doesn’t seem to have a setting between _punishing frozen lake_ , or _fiery depths of hell_.” 

Martin smiles. He’s shared rooms with Douglas before, but it feels different, now. This is what it’d be like if, well, if they did this for real. 

Martin washes quickly. And then wonders about whether to put on clothes, or… 

Douglas is already half under the covers, but he is wearing pyjamas, so Martin goes to his carry-on and puts on pyjamas, too. Then gets into bed. 

Douglas turns the small light off. Then reaches out in a rustle of sheets, and finds him in the dark. Douglas presses a small kiss to his lips that tastes like toothpaste. “Night.”

“Good night.” 

Douglas turns away, and then stays quiet, but Martin doesn’t fall asleep easily. He’s still replaying what they just did in his mind, and... Martin thinks that he should ask Douglas about kissing him more. In airports. In the Fitton office. In the car, when waiting for a client. All the times Martin looks at Douglas, and thinks, ‘now we could.’ 

About having sex, more, too. 

Because maybe... 

Douglas would want to?

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

Douglas is a romantic. 

If he didn’t believe in love, he certainly wouldn’t have tried it so many times. 

There’s a reason why Douglas has a trail of failed relationships a mile wide in his wake - impressing someone, giving pleasure, being their whole world... He has always enjoyed it deeply.

And people are starting to notice. 

It’s Arthur – _Arthur_ , who says, “Wow, Douglas, you’ve been happy a lot lately.” 

Douglas takes care to sigh in reply, and say, “Have I? Not that I’ve noticed.”

But Arthur muses on, “Actually, Martin is as well? You know that frown he always has - like someone died, but not someone he knows well, just a person - that one? It’s gone. And I’ve heard him laugh a lot of times. Even when you’re not here. He whistles, too!” 

“Hm, quite the mystery.” 

Arthur lets it go, luckily. 

But it’s Carolyn next, she corners Douglas in the galley between the drinks trolley and the microwave, and says, “Douglas, stop it, you’re scaring me.” 

“Stop what, breathing?”

“No, the _smiling_ , constantly grinning like a cat that got the canary! It makes me think that you’re up to something, only I don’t know what it is.”

Douglas smiles widely in reply, naturally. “Why wouldn’t I smile? We’re nearly home, we have the rest of the evening off…” _I’m getting some..._

“You get to go home to eat, sleep, and come back again to do your dull, underpaid job.” Carolyn squints, and then says, scarily perceptive, “Douglas, please don’t tell me that you’re in love? I can deal with stupid pilots, sick pilots, but god help me if it’s lovesick pilots.”

“In love?” Douglas pretends to mull it over, and then lies easily. “No. Not that I’m against the general concept, mind you, now that I’m single, and a highly desirable bachelor. Alas, there is no fourth Mrs. Richardson in sight. Why, are you offering?” 

“What?!” Carolyn seems insulted. “You know that I’m…”

“Ah yes, seeing...” Douglas makes certain to add the appropriate amount of scorn to his voice, “ _Herc._ And how’s that working out for you?” 

That steers the conversation into safer waters, with Carolyn huffing and puffing and walking off, but it makes Douglas think. Because it’s been good, absolutely, with Martin. 

But it’s not going to last. 

Douglas might be a romantic, but he’s lived enough to know that there’s an expiry date here, and it’s coming fast. Love, lust, all of it is mostly an illusion, and Douglas knows that, deeply, and personally. It’s a pleasant one - granted - but nothing more. 

Douglas loved all of his wives. All of his girlfriends, his flings, his one-night stands, he loved them for the way they looked at him. And he did everything to keep that going - to keep them in awe of him. But every time he lost himself between someone’s thighs, every time he wanted nothing but to make a whole world for the two of them… eventually, it failed. The longer it went on, the less impressed they got. 

So romance might be pleasant, the first flush of desire, the excitement, but it doesn’t mean a thing. 

It can’t. 

Two flights and six days later, Douglas and Martin find themselves on a cargo flight to Beijing. Without Arthur or Carolyn once again. Martin could barely look Carolyn in the eye when she assigned them the job together. Douglas made certain to keep up a certain level of token protest, of course, but still, he can already feel some sort of promise in the air between them. Just the two of them in the cabin for twelve hours, and then a hotel...

Douglas has plans. 

Of course, that was at the beginning of the flight. 

A whole fourteen hours later they’re stranded in Kazakhstan because of a snowstorm, and nearly out of fuel. They had to circle the airport before landing, and now they’re in GERTI for the next four hours while they wait for someone to clear the runway, and bring them gas so they can fly on. Forced to sleep inside in the plane as well because they’re out of hours. 

It’s not as if Carolyn will pay for a hotel room for that amount of time anyway, and in this weather they would barely get to a hotel, never mind back in time. 

So Douglas settles on a passenger seat, pushes it as far back as it’ll go, and sighs. 

Martin is spreading the sleeping bag that Arthur keeps in GERTI in the aisle, and neither of them is exactly _in the mood_ , Douglas assumes. 

Martin has been acting normal enough during the flight, for all of the evidence to the contrary, he actually is mostly capable of being professional. And they are so used to the banter and games that it would be hard to do anything else. 

But now Martin is fiddling, and looking at him, and Douglas knows what’s coming. Martin turns the overhead lights off, but leaves the emergency ones, and says, quietly, “Douglas? I know that I said no kissing in GERTI, but can I, just, maybe, um, kiss you goodnight?”

And Douglas is tired and sore and it’s been a rotten day, so he says, “Who am I to refuse?”

Martin’s tired face lights up. He comes close, leans over him, and kisses him softly. With such reverence, as if Douglas has hung the moon in the sky. _Who could say no to that?_

Martin touches the side of his face and whispers, “Hmmm,” into his ear and then kisses him again. 

And then he tries to crawl onto Douglas’ lap, on the small airplane seat, narrowly avoiding kneeing him in the groin. Douglas leans back. “Martin! ...I’m tired.” 

“Oh...” Martin moves off him immediately. “Sorry.” 

He sounds so disappointed that Douglas stops him from moving away completely, though. Douglas touches the side of Martin’s hand, and takes it. He looks Martin in the eye, brings his hand up to his mouth, and kisses it. 

Martin makes a soft sound, and then smiles again. It’s somewhat ridiculous how easy it is to make him happy sometimes. And what the hell, Douglas’ is feeling magnanimous. “That doesn’t mean I can’t do _a little something_ for you.”

Martin blinks. “Oh, no, it’s okay, I can...” 

Douglas feels something odd thrumming in his brain as he presses his lips to Martin’s fingers again, making Martin stop his protests. Douglas looks up at Martin, opens his mouth, and lets one finger slide in between his lips to lie on his tongue. 

He sucks on it, lightly. 

And Martin gasps. 

Yes, that would be the idea. Douglas licks Martin’s finger. He can taste it, actually. Feel the ridges of Martin’s finger pad and nail against his tongue. He sucks a little. Then, wickedly, licks it and lets go. 

Douglas wishes that there was more light in the cabin, because he’s sure that Martin’s blushing spectacularly. 

Douglas’ back might be sore, and he’s old and tired, so tired, but Martin looks at him with awe, and Douglas feels _radical_. He’s fifty-seven years old, and about to give a man a blow job. 

For the first time ever.

Douglas touches Martin’s trousers, and opens them. Martin pushes his pants down to his knees, and says, “ _Douglas…_ ” sounding as if he just got the most astonishing thing in the world. And Douglas hasn’t even done anything. 

Douglas pulls Martin in to stand between his legs. He takes Martin’s cock in his hand, leans over it, and considers it. _How complicated can it be, truly?_ Douglas brings it to his lips, and licks the tip. Martin inhales sharply. 

It tastes quite distinct. Douglas knows the taste of himself, of course, he imagines that every man does try it at one point or another, but this seems different. The scent, too, unique to Martin. Douglas swipes his tongue over the head, and Martin’s breath stutters. 

Douglas knows his oral skills might be lacking, so he moves his hand as well, knowing that when in doubt, he’ll still be able to get him off like that. Douglas lets Martin’s cock slip out of his mouth under the guise of working the wetness of his spit further over him, and looks up at him. Martin is, as ever, an open book, staring down at him with an expression that’s nothing less than rapture. 

“You like this?” Douglas adds a little twist to his hand movement, all slick now. 

“ _Yes!_ ” Martin says it with conviction. 

So Douglas, with a tense, hot feeling in the pit of his stomach, leans back down, and puts his mouth on Martin’s cock again. He tries to take him a bit deeper, but not too much because he doesn’t want to risk choking too obviously. 

He’s really doing this. 

Douglas experiments with the pressure of his lips, then with his tongue, long licks, short ones. It’s not too difficult, in all. Martin doesn’t complain about his lack of adventurous moves, either, instead softly sighs and moans above him. 

Douglas makes a tight circle of his lips, moves his hand over him and sucks the head, and Martin moves his hips forward in shivery thrusts. 

Martin must be holding back not to come already, Douglas realises, and he’s surprised at how much the thought is doing for him. The power of it. Douglas wants to spread Martin out on a bed and lean over him like this, make him tell him when he’s close, again and again, until all he needs to do is lick him once and he’s undone. 

Now Douglas mainly uses his hand, strokes back and forth, and sticks to taking only half of him into his mouth. Martin’s breathing a constant stream of soft sounds, until he says, “I’m, I will... _Douglas!_ ”

So Douglas, right, pulls back a little and licks him with his tongue. He laps over the head and speeds up his hand and yes, suddenly all he can taste is a metal bitterness, very slick, and Martin’s fast shallow breaths turn into a long moan. Douglas keeps on licking him through it. Then swallows, awkwardly, he feels briefly nauseous, there seems to be more than he thought there would be. And lets go. 

Martin leans down towards him with a sigh, wraps his arms around him and holds on to his shoulders. Douglas holds him back, his hands accidentally holding onto Martin’s naked arse, while he tries to swallow away the taste. 

Douglas realises that he’s shaking. 

Martin leans down for a kiss, and Douglas kisses him gently, just a bit of pressure on the lips, aware of what he’d taste like if he were to do more. 

Douglas is half-hard, from doing that. Martin’s looking at him as if he’s about to go down onto his knees, so Douglas says, quickly, “Martin - I really am tired. It’s been a long day.” _And I’m old._

Martin’s eyes seem to see too much, for a second, before he nods. “Okay.” He gives Douglas a last look, then goes to lie on his sleeping bag, and says, “Good night.”

Douglas sits back, and contemplates what he just did. First time for everything, and all that. 

He still feels uneasy. 

Three-and-a-half hours later, the alarm on Douglas’ phone goes off, and they turn the light on, and get up again. 

Martin goes to the loo, and Douglas makes coffee, feeling like he hasn’t slept at all. 

When Martin comes back, he moves to stand next to him and stare at the coffee maker. He looks all pale and bleary-eyed, so Douglas touches his back and says, “You sleep a bit?” 

Martin turns to him and lays his head on Douglas’ shoulder. He seems to be seeking comfort, so Douglas holds him close, something uncomfortable playing in his chest. _Oh, Martin._

Martin says, eventually, “Yes, actually, I was...” he moves back, and smiles a little at him, “relaxed.” 

Douglas laughs, and they go to the cabin. Get clearance, gas, and then taxi off a snowy runway, with the lights of _Kyzylorda_ \- apparently - all around them. 

They’re both quiet. Tired, Douglas assumes, it is the middle of the night, they’ve been going for almost a day and a night, and he himself didn’t do more than doze sitting in one of the chairs. But once they’re at altitude, Martin reaches over, and puts a hesitant hand on his leg. “Thank you. Um, for the... I forgot to thank you.”

“You don’t need to, Martin.” 

“No, but...” Martin looks down, and then seems to gather his courage, and says, with an adoring flutter of a smile, “You’re amazing.”

“Well, I _have_ always said so.” Douglas puts his hand over Martin’s, and rubs his thumb over it.

Martin turns his hand, and tangles their fingers. 

They fly to Beijing, deliver the cargo there, and then back home. By the end they’re both exhausted, moving in a haze of fatigue, and mostly mumble their goodbyes. 

But once Douglas is back home, in his large, empty house, he can’t sleep.

He lies in bed with eyes that feel as though they have sand rubbed into them, and a back that’s complaining, feeling painfully awake. It might be the litres of piping hot coffee that he’s been drinking to get through the last hours. Or jetlag, of some sort. Or Martin. 

Martin, who thinks he’s amazing because Douglas awkwardly tried to blow him. 

Douglas _has_ always put on a good show. Made himself appear grand. 

But the thing is, the facade has been slipping for a good long while now. Martin might look at him and see someone great, a great pilot, a great man, but Douglas is very aware that that’s not true. 

The house isn’t as impressive when there isn’t a woman and child living in it with him. The Lexus isn’t much of anything, since it’s a decade old now. His body looks… the way it does. Douglas is still a pilot, of course, a _terribly_ good one at that, but his job doesn’t matter now it’s for MJN, a company everyone else would turn their nose up at. 

The truth is that Douglas is playing make-believe, now. Just like Carolyn, pretending that he’s not old. 

Just like Martin, pretending that being a pilot makes his life somehow important, and his voice worth listening to. 

Just like Arthur, pretending that there will be something better in the future, while for both of them, this is probably the best job that they will ever have again. With the best people. 

And Douglas can be as happy as he wants to be about this thing with Martin - he can look at Martin and see someone that he wants to be with, in body and soul and twenty-hour-long flights. But the truth is that Douglas has nothing real to offer Martin. 

Martin simply hasn’t realised it yet. 

Because what Martin really needs is someone whose hand he can hold on the street. Someone he can kiss in public. Someone he can take home to his mother. A _boyfriend_. 

And Douglas is never going to be that. 

Douglas is not right for Martin, not at all. He’s too old. Not enough. So if he really cares for Martin, and he does - then he needs to ends this. Soon. Make Martin feel as if there’s nothing there except friendship. Steer him towards someone better. 

And if Douglas is lucky, if he’s extremely lucky... they’ll get to spend the next decade flying the skies together. And that will be enough. 

It’ll have to be.

 

 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

 

Martin thinks that Douglas is happy. 

He thinks that _they_ are. 

Martin holds Douglas’ hand, and feels exhilarated. They fly like that through the night, occasionally adjusting something or talking to ATC, coordinated, easy, together, and it’s all he’s ever dreamed of. Or more, really - Martin had imagined flying, first and foremost, and only second maybe some vague image of someone to come home to. But he never thought that he could have someone right next to him, flying with him. And now that he has it, it makes all the sense in the world. 

It feels right. 

Beautiful, to be allowed to hold Douglas’ hand. To touch him. To see his warm look, the one that means that he’s happy, too. 

It’s all Martin ever wanted. 

So when the next flight out, right after landing back in Fitton, Martin reaches out to kiss Douglas, and then Douglas turns away, Martin doesn’t mind it too much. Douglas doesn’t want to do that where someone might come in and see, and that’s okay. Even though it hurts, a little, Martin does understand. 

The next day, Martin says, “We don’t have an overnight on the schedule for another three weeks.” 

“Hm.” Douglas doesn’t seem too bothered.

“So maybe we could, um, meet... some other time?” Martin does feel really insecure asking. “If you want to.”

Douglas says, “We’ll see.” 

Which doesn’t sound too good, but then Douglas acts normal throughout the day, so Martin tries to believe that it’s all fine. 

It’s another five days before there’s even a flight. And Martin spends that time alone, doing jobs with the van, and wondering about Douglas. Some moments Martin thinks that he should just call and ask, and maybe that will work out if he does. But he always stops himself before actually calling, because he’s not sure. He’s really not that sure that Douglas will like it, if he asks. 

When they’re flying together again, Martin is a little afraid to bring it up, actually. Because it’s been almost two weeks now since the last time, and it’ll be almost two more, and that’s a whole month without... and it feels too long. So Martin tries to take Douglas’ hand again during the flight. 

Douglas lets him. 

Douglas holds his hand, for a moment, and then lets go. Martin looks for Douglas’ smile, but it’s not there anymore, and he realises that it’s probably not good. That Douglas is upset, or that he doesn’t like him anymore, or...

When they land in Fitton, Martin shuts GERTI down, and asks, “What did I do wrong?” Because if he did something wrong, he will fix it. Whatever it is, whatever it takes, he’ll do it. 

Douglas frowns. “Wrong? Nothing.” Douglas hesitates. Then says, “But, actually... I think it’s time that we ended this, Martin.” 

And Martin can’t breathe, for a long moment. 

Douglas looks away. “We’ve had our fun, right?” 

Martin can hear his own voice through the strange rush in his ears, how weak it sounds. “Fun?”

“Yes, a bit of an affair between friends, nice enough, but it’s going to start interfering with work.”

Martin stares at Douglas. “Since when do you care about that?” 

Douglas half-smiles, for a moment. “Touché.” He goes on, “But it’s time, Martin. It’s been pleasant, very much so, but there’s an end to everything.” 

“Why?” Why does it need to end?

Douglas eyes him, “You need to find someone else. Something real.” 

“No, I don’t want anyone else.” Martin is sure of that. “Douglas, I don’t!”

“Martin...” Douglas sighs.

“I love you.” Martin says it like a stone dropping from his lips. He knows that he shouldn’t have when he sees Douglas’ face.

Douglas swallows dryly. 

Martin can feel the tears well in his eyes now but he doesn’t care, he just looks straight at Douglas because please, _please_... 

“I’m sorry.” Douglas gets up, opens the door, and leaves. 

Martin’s shaking. His hands feel unsteady. His whole body feels as if it might float away. He sits in GERTI, and stares at the grey tarmac outside. 

At one point Arthur yells, “Skip, are you in there?” 

So Martin mumbles something in reply, gets up, and walks out as if he’s in a dream. He drives home, makes it all the way up the stairs, up to his room, and lies down on his bed. He takes a couple of hard, pained breaths, and he thinks that he’ll cry... but he can’t. There’s nothing there. 

Martin thought that it _was_ real. 

But he was wrong. To Douglas it was just... nothing. Fun. 

He never should have thought that Douglas would love him back. It’s stupid. Who would? Martin is needy, he knows that about himself. Always wanting too much. Douglas doesn’t want to live with that, who would want to, why did he ever think that anyone would? 

Martin knew that it would only be for a short while. He did know that. 

He just... forgot. 

When the day of their next flight comes along, Martin is late. 

Douglas is already sitting in his seat, he looks up as Martin walks in. And then nods, as if nothing happened at all. “Martin.” 

Martin doesn’t know what to say. But he knows that they have to fly, just fly, that’s all, so he takes a breath, and says, awkwardly, “Pre-flight checks?” 

Douglas answers him immediately, “Pre-flight checks are complete.” 

And it’s all fine. Douglas doesn’t love him, and it’s over. 

Done. 

They go to Paris and back. 

To Seattle. 

To Reykjavik, and when they see the Northern lights this time it’s just really, really quiet in the cabin between them. 

To Sydney, on an epic three-day adventure where Arthur gets hit in the face by an angry kangaroo in the cargo hold. When Martin hears Douglas laugh, it hurts something in his chest. 

To Delhi, where Martin gets lost in the masses, and it’s Douglas who finds him, forty-five minutes later, and steps towards him with an expression of pure relief, as if he wants to hug him. But then stops right before he does, and averts his eyes. 

They do okay, flying together. 

Sometimes Martin can forget for a while that anything’s different at all. And then Douglas says something, just a word, or even a sound, or he sighs, or the way he tilts his head, and then it’s right there again. _You had him and you loved him and he didn’t want you back._

Martin tries not to think of what it was like, before. Before Douglas grew tired of him. What it had could have been like, if they were still doing... that. But it’s so hard not to think of it, of all the little touches, of everything Douglas would say. What Douglas felt like, against him in bed. 

And it’s strange, because back when Martin thought that Douglas never would touch him like that, back when it was some warm secret that he could keep safe in his mind, he was happy with just this. 

And now it’s the same again, or it should be, but it’s not at all. 

Arthur tries to make up for the obvious tension between them by being extra friendly and helpful, which means that he’s in the way constantly. Martin doesn’t mind, it’s a distraction. It’s something that Douglas and he can talk about, too. Sometimes even joke about, but rarely. Douglas smiles much less now. 

Before, when they were together - in bed, but also just flying - Douglas would smile all the time. Small, fond smiles. Deep, relaxed ones. Now sometimes, very rarely, he will slip and smile like that at him, still, and Martin collects every single one. 

Martin knows that Douglas is letting him win at the word games sometimes now, even though he claims that he doesn’t. That he’s forgetting about the Camembert on purpose, so Martin can eat a piece of it first. Even Carolyn has been somewhat less stern than usual, giving him ‘some vegetarian idiocy that Herc made,’ which was a large oven tray of lasagne. 

The weeks turn into a month.

And five weeks and three days after it ended - and yes, Martin does still count every day like that - they’re flying the King of Lichtenstein home for winter break. And Douglas says, “You know, we’ll be seeing _a certain princess_ when we land. Maybe it’s time to finally take her to the, Duxford Air Museum, was it?” 

Martin never did call her back. He had thought about taking Douglas to the museum instead, some day. Just so they could look at the planes, together. He pushes the thought away. 

“You could always grovel. Tell her that you’re still thinking of her.”

It’s been months since they flew Theresa. Martin does remember really liking her, but it didn’t feel... right.

Not like Douglas did. 

“Well, you should consider it.” Douglas says it as if he’s the one that’s thought about it. “Ask someone out, Martin. Have a girlfriend. Or boyfriend, if you’d rather.” 

Martin wonders why Douglas would say that. Why he would think that anyone else would want him, ever, when Douglas himself didn’t. But Martin says, “You too. I mean, you should, have someone.” Martin can’t imagine Douglas with anyone else - just the thought alone is terrible. But Douglas should be happy. “A boyfriend.”

Douglas looks at him with something odd in his expression. Then says, “Martin, I’m not gay.” 

And Martin forgets that they haven’t talked about what they did together, _ever_ , not once, and says, “But you... I mean, with me, you did...!”

“Just a small deviation from the norm.” Douglas says it evenly. 

“...oh.” Martin looks to the side, but he knows that his face gives it away. That it _aches_ , to hear Douglas say that. 

And suddenly Martin doesn’t want to hear it, Douglas laughing about not being gay, because why would he be. Or suggesting that Martin go to a bar to pick someone up, as if they were never, as if… _no_. 

Martin says, rash, “Take over?” and doesn’t wait for a reply, just gets up, and leaves the cabin. 

There’s nowhere to go except maybe the loo, but then he’d have to go past King Maxi and Arthur, and they’ll be able to tell that something’s wrong. So Martin lingers in the galley and pretends to pour himself some water. 

He’s not even sure why it hurt so much, to hear Douglas say that. Douglas doesn’t love him, Martin already knew that. He didn’t mean anything to Douglas, he knew that, too. It was just a bit of, what, curiosity? 

But the thing is, the more Martin thinks about it… the stranger it seems that Douglas isn’t gay. He must be at least a little? Martin does know about the ex-wives and the girlfriends and all that, but he’d just assumed that Douglas liked both - plenty of people do. 

It has to be something like that, because, well... Martin’s been touched before by men who didn’t really want him. In back alleys, in toilet stalls. That was the best he could get, and so he took it. But it never felt anything like it did with Douglas. 

Martin remembers the kisses. So many of them started by Douglas, as if he didn’t want to stop kissing him. The touching, so careful, Douglas treating his body like it was something special. Like he loved touching him. 

Martin remembers Douglas’ face when they were in bed together. Douglas’ little sighs of pleasure, and the warmth in his eyes. 

Martin remembers the way Douglas trembled when Martin undid his shirt. 

The little flash of fear in Douglas’ eyes, right before Martin went on his knees the very first time. And then again - because he was looking for it - when Douglas took Martin in his mouth. 

And the more Martin thinks about it, _a small deviation from the norm_ , he doesn’t really believe that it was something small for Douglas. It wasn’t _small_ , Martin could see it in Douglas’ eyes, in everything. And the more Martin thinks about it, how nice Douglas is to him now... the more it seems wrong. Martin’s not sure if he believes him anymore, that it didn’t mean anything. That it was just a bit of fun.

Martin blinks. _He doesn’t believe him._

Arthur walks up beside him, and stage-whispers, “Are you all right, Skip?”

Martin startles. “What? Yes - yes, I’m fine.” 

“It’s just that you’ve been standing here for ten minutes staring at a glass of water and you haven’t had a drink, and sometimes I like to stare, too, but just,” Arthur frowns, “can I help?” 

“Arthur...” Martin looks at him, “Would Douglas… lie about something important if he thought it was, I don’t know, for the best?” 

“Oh!” Arthur smiles. “I love questions like those! Let me think, um, well, yes, I think he would?” 

“Would he lie to me?” 

“Oh, that’s easy. Yes, definitely!” Arthur nods. “And he’s a really, really good liar, too.” 

“He is, isn’t he?” Martin considers it. “Thank you, Arthur.” He goes back. 

Arthur says, “Skip, you forgot your water!” but he doesn’t need it now. Martin goes back into the cabin, and sits into his seat. 

Douglas glances up, to see how he’s doing, probably, and says, “Thirty minutes till landing, the tower of Altenrein checked in, weather all clear.” He adds, “Also, I can take the landing if you want.” 

“No, it’s fine.” 

“You sure?” Douglas looks away. “I don’t mind.” 

Martin thinks about how these past weeks, Douglas has stopped smiling. Making jokes. How he seems sad, too. “You really think I should date someone.” 

“Oh, yes, absolutely. Plenty of fish in the sea.” Douglas still isn’t looking at him, though, he’s adjusting controls. 

Martin takes a breath, and says, for the first time ever, in his whole life, “ _I_ do. Like men, more. More than women. Most.”

Douglas turns, and smiles. “Well! Time to try adding a man to that bobsled, then.” Douglas sounds as if he’s happy for him. He really does. 

So Martin lands the plane, and they go and deliver Maxi to Theresa, who is very friendly, and beautiful, and it is nice to see her again. But Martin’s eyes stray to Douglas. 

It’s Douglas he’s thinking about.

 

 

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

 

Douglas never meant to break Martin’s heart. 

He can deal with his own just fine, Douglas’ heart has been broken so many times that he’s not sure what’s left there now, other than a collection of shards. 

But not Martin’s. 

Douglas knows that it is utterly and completely his fault - he could have stopped it so many times. He could have told Martin so much sooner. Or at least told him that it was temporary, that it didn’t mean anything. But he let himself fall into it. Douglas let himself disappear into the feeling. He was _happy_ , for a while. And then this is what happens. 

This is what Douglas Richardson does to people. 

Douglas thought that Martin would get over it fast enough; after all, they spent only a handful of nights together. But Martin comes to work looking wrecked, and Douglas curses himself. 

He should have known that Martin would get hurt in this. 

And the truth is that he did know, of course. Douglas knew perfectly well that he’s too old for Martin before they ever started this. That Martin worshipped him. But he did it anyway, slept with Martin, and again, and again, because he was selfish. Because he wanted it all - the look on Martin’s face, the love in his eyes, his touch. Always the same thing. 

The same flaw. 

Douglas tries to cheer Martin up as much as he can. To make him feel as if nothing has changed between them. It works to some extent, when they’re flying Douglas can see to it that Martin’s okay, especially when he hints to Arthur that Martin’s sad and needs some extra attention. When they’re together Martin is in reasonably good spirits, but Douglas can tell that it’s just superficial. 

Martin looks down every time he comes in. He’s distracted, and slow to laugh. He seems tired. 

That’s why Douglas gently pushes him to move on. And, when the moment comes, tells Martin that he’s not gay – which, conveniently, is true. So that he’ll get over it once and for all. 

Martin will find someone new; he just has to look for it. He’s young, and resilient. He’ll find someone who deserves his admiration. And Douglas is better off alone, it’s much healthier to live with his own mistakes than to impose them on someone else. Even if the time that he spent with Martin was... Douglas was elated, charmed, _pleased_ , that Martin wanted him. And yes, he loves him. 

He still does. 

But it’s not going to happen. 

Still, something changes after that flight to Lichtenstein. Martin starts looking at him again. Nothing like the shy flirting he used to do - now he seems to be more... considering. 

And after a flight to Bangkok, when the four of them are in the cabin finishing up, Martin looks at Douglas, and then glances at Arthur, at Carolyn, and clears his throat. He says, loudly and clearly, “There’s something I wanted to say.” 

Carolyn raises an eyebrow. “Yes?” 

Martin hesitates. “I, um, I’ve dated women, but I…” another quick glance towards him, Douglas frowns, _what?_ “I also like men, and I think I do more, so I’m, um, probably, mostly, gay.” 

Douglas can feel the tension settle in his stomach while Martin looks around nervously. _What is he doing?_

Carolyn says, “Well, Martin... do you expect us to be surprised?” 

Arthur jumps up, and says, “Oh, Skip! That’s brilliant!” And then hugs him. Arthur means it, too, he pulls Martin in enthusiastically. Martin looks stunned, and then as the hug goes on, relaxes into it. He lays his head down on Arthur’s shoulder for a moment, and breathes out.

Douglas can feel a sharp wave of envy looking at them. He would give a lot to be able to take Martin into his own arms, and tell him that he’s proud of him. That it must be terrifying, to do this. 

Martin’s eyes meet his, and Douglas swallows.

Carolyn is watching him rather shrewdly, waiting for his reaction, so Douglas says, “Ah, well, as Arthur said, congratulations. As far as coming out speeches go, _brilliant_ , indeed.” 

It’s only after Douglas has said it, and sees the small flash of pain cross Martin’s face, that he remembers the conversation where he called Martin brilliant in bed. He can feel it knot in his throat. 

Carolyn says, “Well, gay or not, you’re still helping to clean the galley.” 

And life goes on. 

The next flight, Arthur’s cheerily singing, and Douglas lets himself be roped into an impromptu performance of some Sinatra, in which Martin joins hesitantly as well. Martin has a lovely voice. Not nearly as splendid as Douglas’ own, of course, but still, they harmonise well. 

Douglas enjoys it more than he should, looking over at Martin in the seat next to him, and seeing him sing with a mild flush on his cheeks. Seeing his eyes shine. And in the short pause as the song ends, and they’re still looking at one another, still searching for that synchronicity, Douglas wants nothing more than to reach out and to take Martin’s hand. 

He doesn’t. 

It shouldn’t take this long to make himself forget about it. It was only a bit of sex. 

_Martin_ should be over it. But he’s not either, Douglas can see that. 

They have some days off after that, and Douglas asks his daughter over. Her visits are the only times that there is anyone else in the house, now. Talking over the echoes.

They bake together, an attempt at cupcakes. Douglas has always loved to do that with her, even though she’s probably getting too old for it now, and she’s just humouring him, really. But he has no idea what else she’d like. What she wants from him. Verity’s a teenager now, Douglas sometimes looks at her and doesn’t see the faintest thing of himself in her. And other times, it’s as if she’s just like him, but in all the ways that he’s found hard to face up to, himself. She’s overly loving, overly loud, and hard to handle, at times. She’s easily hurt, too. 

Douglas refrains from teasing her about any potential boyfriends, and she refrains from commenting on Helena, who she never liked anyway. 

And afterwards, Douglas gives her some cash instead of a present of some sort, she hugs him goodbye, and leaves. And that’s that. The best afternoon of his week.

Douglas takes the surplus cupcakes into work. They have a long night flight over Russia scheduled, and Douglas hides them under his seat. He intends to take them out when needed, and yes, sometime after midnight he announces to Martin, “I brought us something.” 

Martin looks up, a mix of weariness and expectation. “What?” 

Douglas realises that he wants to give Martin this so he’ll smile, just for a moment. So his eyes will light up. And oh, he’s aware that that’ll give the wrong signals all over again, but Douglas slides the box out from under his seat, opens it, and presents it to Martin. “My daughter made these. I supervised, naturally.” 

“Oh!” Martin smiles, and yes, he seems happy enough. He takes one, and licks at the icing before eating it. 

They put the box between them. 

Martin is on his third cupcake when he says, cautiously, “What is she like? Verity?” 

“Oh, she’s fabulous.” Douglas thinks a bit, then adds, “You’ve never seen her, have you?” He takes his wallet out and searches for a picture, Verity’s ninth birthday, she’s wearing pink fairy wings, waving a wand and looking straight at the camera with a toothy grin. “It’s hopelessly out of date, I’m afraid, she’s thirteen now. Fourteen next month.” 

Martin puts the cupcake aside and studies the picture. It makes Douglas feel something odd. 

Martin looks up from the photo, and says, “She looks like you. Her smile.” 

He gives it back, and Douglas sticks it into his wallet. “She’s wearing make-up these days. Tighter clothes, too. Still pink, mind. She’s clever, top of her class.” He’s aware that he’s saying it proudly. She’s a _great_ Richardson. “She wants to be a lawyer.” Like Anne’s new husband, because Douglas is aware that _he’s_ mostly Verity’s dad, instead of him. 

She barely knows him.

“Is it…” Martin hesitates. “Is it hard, missing her?” 

“Hard? No, I’m used to it. But then I hardly ever saw her before.” She was two when they divorced, and Douglas was off flying for most of that time, he missed all the baby things, Anne did it on her own. Douglas considers it. “I wanted more kids, with Helena. She didn’t.” He should be relieved that they never had any, now. 

He actually isn’t. 

“I’m sorry.” Martin seems to mean it. 

Douglas shrugs. “Oh, it was for the best.” 

He has another cupcake, and as Martin finishes his, Douglas hands him the last. He thought that he might refuse, but Martin does take it. 

“Tell her thank you? That they were nice?” 

“Hmm, next time she calls, you can tell her yourself.” 

Douglas meant it as a throw-away remark, but Martin’s eyes widen. “Really?” 

Douglas thinks about it, but he can’t see any issue with it, it’s not as if Martin will tell her anything too personal. “If you want to.” 

Martin seems taken with the idea. 

An hour after that, Martin gets up to make coffee, and when he hands Douglas a cup, steaming, their finger brush briefly. Douglas keeps his face steady, but for such an insignificant thing, it feels strangely significant. 

They fly on, talk occasionally, but there are silences as well, comfortable, now. Douglas didn’t destroy this completely between them, doing what he did. Soon they’ll both forget about it, and they can be friends for the rest of their lives. Which is what he wanted.

They arrive in Russia at noon, spend a good eight hours in - separate, very separate - hotel rooms, and then head back against the time zones. A good deal of it is flying in the dark again, and Douglas leaves the lights low on purpose. It’s pleasant enough. Martin talks about his family. His Mum, his brother. Most of it Douglas knew already, but some things he didn’t. 

Douglas asks - already angling for inspiration, Martin’s birthday is a good six months from now, but it’s never too early - “So what’s the best present you ever got?” 

Martin smiles widely. “A remote-controlled Cessna 182. My brother flew it into the ground on his first try, but I collected the pieces and glued it back together. It didn’t fly anymore, but I, um, kept it next to my bed. Until he threw it off a bridge onto the motorway.” 

Douglas can imagine Martin’s childhood bedroom. Blue, probably. Planes everywhere, posters, pictures, models hanging from the walls. A little Martin playing with his wrecked plane. 

“How about you?” 

Douglas thinks back on an endless parade of knitted jumpers and socks. “I don’t know, I got married the day before Christmas, once? I suppose that counts as a present of sorts.” He doesn’t care much for the holiday. He’ll be alone this year, probably. 

“Really?” Martin seems interested. 

“Yes, Charlotte, my first wife. Lasted for a year and a half.” 

Martin’s voice sounds a little off as he asks, “What happened?” 

“What always happens. I was gone all the time. She was young and always alone, I was young and _not_ always alone…” 

“You cheated on her?” Martin sounds as if he wants to know. 

And yes, actually, Douglas glances at him, Martin should know. All the things he’s done wrong. All the times he’s destroyed something. Someone. So Douglas says, “I did. And I cheated on Anne with Helena, a week after our wedding.”

“Did you cheat on Helena as well?”

Oh. “No.” Not once in eight years, even though they spent the last three in separate bedrooms. “One might say I had it coming, I suppose. The _Tai Chi teacher_.” Douglas looked him up on Facebook, he’s thirty-five and lives in a yurt. 

Martin hesitates. Then asks, “You did lie to her. About being the captain.” 

“Yes, I knew that she wouldn’t stay if she knew the truth. And she didn’t.” None of them stayed, in the end. 

“I…” Martin stops and eyes him, but Douglas knows what he was about to say. Martin would stay. And this is dangerous, because for a moment it feels almost right, looking into Martin’s eyes. Seeing the love, the _yearning_ there, so clearly. Douglas looks away. 

That should have been the end of it. 

For the rest of the flight Martin doesn’t mention it. They move on to a word game, and it’s fine. 

They land, an overcast afternoon in Fitton, close it all down. And then, standing up in the cabin, Martin suddenly moves towards him. It feels more like an awkward grab than a hug, Martin abruptly slides his arms under Douglas’, and steps close enough that their bodies fit together. 

Douglas knows that he should stop him. But... Douglas slowly curls his arms around Martin, too. 

Douglas can hear Martin’s soft sigh at that.

It feels... as if they have never stopped doing this. Martin lays his head against his shoulder, and Douglas closes his eyes, and feels the sweet, dangerous pulse of this. 

It’s Martin who lets go first. He doesn’t angle for a kiss, something that Douglas was certain he would do. Douglas, in his mind’s eye, already saw them tumbling onto the ground and kissing, thrilled with this. But Martin steps away, and says, shyly, “I just wanted to hug you.”

Martin leaves, and Douglas doesn’t stop him.

He can’t.

 

 

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

 

Martin was never brave. 

He grew up knowing that it’s not normal, two men together. Always afraid that someone might look at him and _know_ , somehow, what was in his head. That people would be able to tell he was like that. 

But over time, it became almost okay. Martin started to imagine that he could maybe tell people, if he had someone next to him. If he had Douglas, Martin would have taken him home to Mum. He would have told Simon. He would have told anyone, and not cared what they thought anymore, because he would have had Douglas. 

And now, he did tell. Douglas, and Carolyn, and Arthur, it felt terrible, but also... good. Martin’s glad he did it. 

Martin knows what Douglas tried to say, too, telling him about all the times he cheated. About lying to Helena. Douglas is saying that he shouldn’t love him. But Douglas told Martin the truth, and that means a lot. 

Martin is sure that he’s always going to love Douglas. The feeling of being close to him. 

Martin does know that he could find someone else, if he wanted to. It won’t ever be the same, it can’t be, but he could date. He could meet someone, and talk to them, and hope that they like him, and then maybe go out. Take them home. Douglas is right, he could have a boyfriend. 

But what he wants is Douglas. 

Because Douglas... Douglas feels to Martin like flying does. That little hitch in his breath whenever the wheels leave the runway. The feeling that _this, this_ is who he was always meant to be. Even though it’s overwhelming, and Martin might not be perfect at it - flying, and love, too - it’s what he wants. Martin is not afraid of it anymore. And if he has to try really hard to get it, well, if there’s one thing that Martin knows how to do, it’s try. 

When he comes home after that flight, that _hug_ , Martin barely sleeps, because he feels the strange, wild sense that he could do it. Convince Douglas to love him back.

Of course, the next flight out Arthur will be there, Carolyn, and even Herc, so it won’t be very private at all. But still, Martin feels a bit nervous about Douglas. Whether he’ll say anything about the hug, or nothing at all. 

When Martin parks his car, gets out, and Arthur runs up to him to say hi, Douglas is there already. “Martin.” Douglas’ eyes travel over him, but he doesn’t say anything more. 

Arthur smiles. “Skip! It’s been ages since we’ve all flown together somewhere!”

Douglas walks close enough next to him that Martin can feel the edge of his sleeve brush his own. He doesn’t pull away. 

Carolyn and Herc are waiting for them by GERTI, and Herc smiles. “Hello Douglas, Martin!” 

Carolyn’s wearing a ring on her finger that Martin’s never seen before. He wouldn’t have noticed if Herc wasn’t looking at it constantly, and then at her, and smiling. 

Martin whispers to Douglas, “Are they engaged?” 

“Hm, yes, looks like it, doesn’t it? Good old Herc’s done it again.” Douglas turns to Herc, “Fifth time, is it?” 

Herc beams. “Yes, and for the record, you are both invited to the wedding.” 

Carolyn says, quickly, “Sometime next year.”

“This year,” Herc counters. 

“Yes, well, we’ll see about _that_.” 

“They have a bet on,” Arthur says, “Mum proposed in a meadow.” 

“ _Did_ she now?” Douglas grins. 

Carolyn raises her chin, and says. “It was... romantic.” 

Herc still looks a little disturbed. 

They all talk, laugh, and it’s a good flight, but it’s still on Martin’s mind constantly. What he’ll say to Douglas. And when, and how. 

When they’re back in Fitton – Martin is in the office, Carolyn said to get tomorrow’s flight plan - and Douglas walks in, too, Martin startles. Because, maybe now? He could, now? 

Douglas looks at him a little worriedly. “Martin, are you all right? You’ve been quiet all day.”

Martin doesn’t say anything. He loves Douglas so much that it’s a giant gulf of pain in his chest sometimes. He doesn’t have the words for that, even though he’s been trying to come up with them. 

Douglas says, “Martin?” 

And Martin steps closer to him. _I don’t just want to hug you. I want to..._

Martin’s stomach screams nerves at him. _This is not how he was going to do this!_ But Martin angles his face, stands on his toes, and clumsily kisses Douglas. 

It’s just a brush of lips. 

Douglas steadies him, and after a moment, leans in, and kisses back. Douglas’ mouth is warm, his kiss familiar. And oh, Martin kisses more, _harder_ , it’s amazing, it’s wonderful, Douglas tightens his arms...

There’s a cough behind them. 

They both freeze, push apart, and hear Carolyn’s voice say, “Do I need to hose the two of you down? This _is_ MJN’s office.” 

Douglas moves away fast, and, oddly, says, “You’re quite right, Carolyn.” He nods, “Martin.” and leaves. 

Carolyn watches Douglas go. Then turns around, and stares Martin down. “ _Douglas_ , of all people?” 

Martin can feel shame colour his cheeks. He hesitates. Unclenches his hands. “He’ll never… want me back. I know.” Carolyn doesn’t need to tell him that.

Carolyn eyes him, and then sighs. “Martin...” 

Herc walks in, looks at them, and says, “What’s going on? Douglas just practically ran me over.” 

Arthur follows. “Skip? Did you have a fight? Do you need to go after him?” 

No, Martin doesn’t think Douglas will be angry. They’ll just never talk about it again, probably. Martin _was_ going to talk to him, he really did have something planned to say, it’s just that... “What?” Martin looks at Arthur. 

“Do you need to go after him to say you’re sorry?”

Martin wasn’t going to. But… he could, couldn’t he? 

Carolyn rolls her eyes. “Oh, go on. Go find him.”

Arthur adds, enthusiastically, “And tell him that you love him!”

As Martin hurries away he hears Herc say, “What? Martin and _Douglas_? Are you sure?” but Martin doesn’t care. He runs to the parking lot, so hard he has to hold on to his hat, and he’s all out of breath, but he’s too late. 

Douglas’ car is gone. 

Martin stops. And then gets in his own car, he knows where Douglas lives, and he needs to do this. Now. Martin drives a little erratic, he goes five miles over the speed limit. But his van can’t catch up with Douglas’ car. By the time he’s at his street, Douglas’ Lexus is parked on the driveway, and Douglas himself is gone. 

Martin lets go of the wheel - his hands are sweaty because he’s been holding on so tight - and doesn’t let himself question it, what he’s doing. This might be a mistake, but he can’t make it any worse. 

And he has to try. 

Martin gets out, and rings the doorbell. 

Douglas opens the door quickly, maybe he saw that he was coming, but Martin doesn’t give him a chance to say anything, just says, “I know that you don’t love me back.” Although, maybe, Douglas does? 

“But I have to tell you, just in case, just in case you do want... something. Because if you do, anything at all, then that’s enough for me.” Martin can feel that hurt even as he says it, but it’s true, he’ll take anything Douglas wants to give. 

“Because _I_ do. I love you.” Martin stares at Douglas. “Still.” 

In the house next to Douglas’, a curtain moves. Three houses down, a woman trimming rosebushes has stopped, and is looking at them. 

Douglas, after a long moment, tilts his head, and says, “…do come in?”

Martin does, feeling shaky on his legs. They stop in the living room, and Douglas sits down, so Martin does too, on the edge of the sofa.

Douglas holds his head in his hands for a moment. And then says, “Martin... as flattered as I am by a declaration of intent at my front door, and don’t get me wrong, I _am_ \- and possibly, so are the neighbours - but...” he breathes, “simply put, I am too old for you.” 

It’s not what Martin thought he would say at all. 

Douglas is older, by quite a lot, Martin does know that. But it’s not important, what matters is how well they work together, and joke together, and how they get along. “I don’t care about that.”

“You will.” Douglas says it darkly. 

“No!” Martin has to say what he wanted to say, what he should have said all along. Because even if it’s no, then at least he’ll have tried. “I want to... be with you.”

Douglas sighs. “Martin, I’m fifty-seven years old. A first officer for a small airline. Divorced three times - messily, I might add. I’ve been through countless relationships, I have nothing left to offer you.” He closes his eyes, briefly. “Or promise you.” 

It’s so strange to hear him say that. Douglas is amazing. Douglas is talented, and so smart, so good at everything he does, he’s the best friend and best lover and best person that Martin’s ever known. There is no one better for him, anywhere! But Martin says, “I don’t have anything to offer you, either.” He knows how very true that is. 

Douglas smiles, sadly. “Martin, you do.”

“Then it’s not true of you either! You’re amazing, and I...” Martin hesitates. “Actually, no, I don’t need you to _offer_ me anything, all I want is just... you.” 

“Martin…” Douglas eyes him with badly-disguised warmth in his eyes. “It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s that it’s a bad idea. It would never last.” 

“But if you want it, too, we can try! At least...” It doesn’t matter to Martin how old Douglas is, and all of that. As long as he wants him back. As long as it can be real. “Try.” To make it last. 

Douglas will say yes, Martin can see it in his eyes. 

Douglas falters. “I suppose we can...” 

Martin moves forward in a rush of feeling, he has to touch him, he _needs_ to. 

Douglas’ arms reach out to pull him in, and Martin presses kisses to Douglas’ cheek, his neck, urgently. But Douglas looks at him, and pulls him in for a long kiss, warm and skilled and sweet, his arms around him. 

Martin wants to remember every single bit of how good it is. He tries to, to keep every _second_ of this. But in thinking that, his chest starts to hurt, and he can’t help it, he takes a shivery breath against Douglas’ mouth. 

Douglas puts his cheek to his, and holds him. Just holds him close, while Martin tries not to cry. 

They stay like that for a long time. 

When it becomes uncomfortable, Douglas shifts, and Martin sits next to him on the sofa, and puts his head on his chest. Douglas’ hand tangles in his hair, and runs over it. Martin can feel the thudding of Douglas’ heart under his cheek. 

There’s a clock ticking somewhere in the living room. Cars driving by outside. It’s both cold, where they’re not touching, and really warm and a little sweaty where they are.

Douglas’ hand trails over his back, and rubs back and forth. 

Martin doesn’t want to move. Or speak. Or change anything. 

From this moment where Douglas wants him back.

 

 

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

 

 

Douglas stares down at Martin in his arms. 

The light in the living room is low. Martin’s not asleep, but he’s breathing evenly. Douglas can’t bear to push him away. 

It’s not often that he gets what he wants, these days. 

One day, Martin will see that Douglas has learned how to sail through life - nearly always amazing, nearly always impressive, but nearly always covering up for everything he isn’t - and realise that he can do better. When that happens, Douglas will let him go. But in the meantime... He can give him this. For six months or so, a year, maybe two.

He can tell Martin that he loves him. 

Douglas imagines himself whispering it into Martin’s ear whenever he’s down, or panicked, or when he has terrible luck. He’ll tell Martin that he wants him even more because of it. That he sees all of his flaws, along with the best of him. That he knows who Martin is, good and bad, and that he never would need him to be anything else. 

He’ll give Martin every speck of himself he has left to give. 

When Martin looks up with red-rimmed eyes, and shyly searches for a kiss, Douglas kisses him thoroughly. Then gets up, takes Martin’s hand, and leads him to his bedroom. 

He knows it’s wrong. The same mistake that he’s made over and over again, his whole life through. Douglas Richardson, always giving in. Always taking what he wants. Too much, too grand - a romantic. A fool. 

Douglas knows. 

But he does it anyway. 

Douglas undoes the buttons of Martin’s jacket, and lingers a kiss to Martin’s cheek, making him smile. 

Douglas unbuttons Martin’s shirt, and kisses his way up his neck, slowly, while Martin sighs happily. 

Douglas had thought that perhaps he’d exaggerated in his mind how very eager Martin was for this, his touch, him. But he didn’t. Martin’s hands touch his with reverence. Martin’s lips are soft, curious and eager, and Douglas remembers every single reason why he so loved to do this with Martin. Why it was so good.

Douglas lets go only to take his own clothes off. He only undressed once, before, only got to feel Martin’s naked skin on his once, and it wasn’t enough. Martin’s eyes are on every bit of skin Douglas reveals, and he can look, he should, Martin should know every possible disappointment Douglas has for him. 

When Douglas is naked, the cool air intimate on his skin, they move to the bed, and Douglas looks at Martin. The flush on his face, the aborted movement of his hand, wanting to cover himself but not doing so. The planes and edges of his chest and stomach. His small, pink nipples. The lines of his hipbones. His cock, pink and hard already. 

The expectation in his eyes. 

And says, “You’re _splendid_.” Douglas means it, but at the same time it comes out too easily, and he would almost regret it for the smarminess of it, for the predictability. 

Except that Martin looks at him as if he has never heard anything like that at all. As if he can barely believe it to be true, let alone Douglas saying so. Martin flushes, and mumbles, “Um, I’m really... not.” 

Douglas crawls over him, and says, “I’ll prove it to you.” 

But Martin surprises him by looking up at him with trusting eyes, and saying, “You don’t have to. This is good, it’s all I want.” 

Martin means it, too.

So Douglas leans over Martin, careful not to crush him, and kisses him again. His lips, his shoulder, licks his neck, sucks a kiss there, back to his mouth... Until Martin is moving his hips into his touch, and Douglas shifts because his arms start to tremble from keeping himself up. 

He lies down next to Martin, Martin puts a leg over his, holds him, and kisses him more. 

Douglas closes his eyes. His arousal is pressing faintly underneath everything else. Warmth. Some fear, too, but it’s well-disguised now, hidden away, tomorrow’s problem. 

Martin’s hand traces over Douglas’ leg, to his cock, like a question. Douglas nods. Martin happily moves his fingers over his erection, teases a little. Then curls his hand around it, and kisses him again. Douglas allows Martin’s hand to speed up, and get him fully hard. 

Douglas lies back, his head on the pillows, and watches Martin kiss his way down his chest. If he lets Martin take him in his mouth he’ll come in a couple of minutes. But all these weeks of nothing, and wanting this, thinking he’d never have it again… Douglas denies himself, puts a hand on Martin’s shoulder, and says, “Not yet.” 

Douglas moves out from under him, his old, tired body, his throbbing want, _not yet_ , and says, warmly, “Lie back.” 

Martin does, with a small smile. “Okay.” 

Douglas looks at him. He remembers how sensitive Martin’s nipples are, so he traces a fingertip over one, and feels it rise under his touch. Squeezes it a bit, and hears Martin’s halted breath. Then the other. Douglas leans over, and takes one in his mouth. Uses his teeth, very carefully. Then makes his way down, still playing with one nipple, he kisses Martin’s protruding ribs. 

His tense and shivering belly. 

He licks his belly button. 

Then down, Douglas kisses the beginning of his pubic hair, his hip bones, but ignores Martin’s red and straining cock for now. He moves all the way down, and, on impulse, kisses Martin’s knee. Making Martin look at him with a disbelieving look. 

Douglas smiles, and does it again. And then teasingly licks the inside of Martin’s knee. Martin’s leg twitches away, and he laughs, breathlessly, “Douglas!” 

Douglas moves up to Martin’s thighs, and kisses them, peppers the skin with soft kisses.

Then he looks up, and Martin, instead of letting him suck him - and yes, Douglas had been working up to do just that - pulls him up. 

“Like this?” Douglas asks. 

Martin holds him close, and moves his hips against his. “Yes.” Then kisses him, warm and a little wild, and Douglas is only too glad to oblige. It won’t take long, Douglas can feel it in the way Martin’s hands are grabbing him, his fingers holding on. The way he’s breathing shallow, warm breaths against his lips, in between kisses. 

Douglas rubs his own cock against Martin’s without thinking about it much, and then does it again, surprised at the feeling. Martin shivers, “Oh!” 

Douglas glances down at them both. It’s a nice contrast, his cock is both thicker and longer, Martin’s much more eager. Douglas wraps a hand around them both, not sure how to do that, exactly, but Martin shudders, “Oh, oh...” 

Douglas can feel a smile flutter around his lips. “ _Yes_ , come on, Martin.”

Martin arches his back, he opens his mouth, thrusts upwards, and Douglas speeds up his hand on Martin’s cock, and holds his breath along with him, _yes_... And Martin comes, his chest moving up and down, a flush creeping over it. 

Douglas slows it down, and looks at Martin, out of breath, now, his hair sweat-dampened by the temples, his cheeks bright red. Knowing that _he_ did that feels damn good. 

Douglas lets go, wipes his hand on the sheets, and sinks down. He puts an arm around Martin’s chest, and lies close to him. 

After a minute, Martin determinedly crawls over him. Douglas smiles, yes, please. His cock, neglected too long, rises immediately at Martin’s touch. 

Martin takes it deep into his mouth straight away, and with a sigh, as if he missed that, too. 

Douglas looks at him between his legs, and touches Martin’s cheek. Martin looks up, briefly, smiles, for as much as he can like that, and then closes his eyes, and sets a fast rhythm of sucks, a deep and hot slide of tongue. He really is excellent at this. 

It doesn’t take long at all, before Douglas breathes, “Yes, like that. Great... _Martin!_ ” And then comes for him. 

Gloriously, blissfully. 

Martin moves back up the bed, and lies next to him. Douglas holds him, and closes his eyes. He tries just to feel the warm, calm feeling of this. 

The after. 

He’s tired, drifting towards sleep, but after a while Douglas can feel that Martin is staring at him. He’s obviously working up to asking a question. “What?”

Martin hesitates. “Douglas, are you... I mean, you don’t have to say, but... are you _really_ not gay?” 

Ah. Douglas suppresses a laugh. Trust Martin to think of asking that _now_. “I’m not, no.” It’s easily said, because it’s true. He’s always been a ladies’ man, primarily, and he’s not any different now. “More... somewhat flexible, at most.” Douglas considers it. “Does that bother you?” 

“No!” Martin says, quickly, “That’s... fine.” 

There’s a silence. 

Douglas is getting cold. He can see goose bumps on Martin’s skin as well. He offers, “We’re flying tomorrow.” It’s the one thing that will guarantee that Martin will want to leave. 

“Yes, Brussels at ten.” 

Douglas wants to be utterly selfish and keep Martin here in bed, kiss him all night long. But they do have work tomorrow. And it’s been a lot, today. “You should go home, get some sleep.”

“Oh... yes.” Martin moves away. He sits up, leaving a sadly cool sensation where he has been lying, and doesn’t look back. “Of course.” 

There’s something panicked about him, so Douglas says, easily, “You want to bring a bag over, tomorrow? You could sleep here.” 

Martin pauses, already half-way to his pants, then looks back at him, and says, with something beautifully surprised in his smile, “Yes.” 

Douglas gets up, too. 

He finds his dressing gown while Martin dresses, and escorts him to the door. He opens it, the colder night air rushing in, Martin turns to him, and Douglas is reminded of all the good night kisses they shared, before. The almost polite, small press of lips after they’d had sex. This time, Douglas does not hold back. He pulls Martin in - the shape of him against his chest and the feeling of his shirt under his hands both already familiar again - and kisses him, warmly. 

Martin sighs into the kiss. 

“Good night,” Douglas says. 

Martin looks happy, Douglas thinks. “Good night! Douglas.” 

Martin leaves, and Douglas closes the door with the snap of guilt. 

He’s an idiot to believe this will last. He does know that. But if Martin really wants it… they might as well. That’s it, in the end, isn’t it? Douglas might as well be selfish. Love Martin back. Because why not, for a while, be happy. 

Douglas lies awake for most of the night regardless. The bed still smells of them both. The sheets are crumpled. 

The next morning he leaves for the airfield a good fifteen minutes earlier than he usually would. 

Martin’s van is already parked when he arrives, so Douglas walks straight to GERTI. He opens the door and walks into the middle of what sounds like an interrogation in the flight deck. Carolyn’s voice, “...three wives, have you really thought it through, Martin?” 

And Arthur, “I think Douglas is great, Skip! He’ll be a really good boyfriend.” 

Douglas shuts the door loud enough to startle them all, and says, “Indeed, I will make a _superb_ boyfriend.” He’s certainly had enough practice at it. Douglas walks up. “Thank you for the vote of confidence, Arthur.” 

“You’re welcome, Douglas!” 

Arthur certainly seems to mean it, but Douglas doesn’t miss Carolyn’s sharp look, and Martin’s expression of shame. Martin didn’t want to talk about this with them, probably, but if it’s out anyway… 

Actually, Martin _did_ come out, didn’t he? Martin is the sort to value a public declaration. Making it official. So Douglas, on impulse, leans down and presses a fast kiss to Martin’s half-opened lips. 

Then says, as if he planned to saunter in here and do exactly that all along, “Morning, Martin.” 

There’s a brief silence. Martin looks at him, and then smiles, a startled smile. “Um... hello, _hi_ , I mean, morning. Hello. Douglas. Hi.” 

Arthur looks between them, and smiles. “Wow, you know, I thought that would be a little weird, but it’s really not?” 

Carolyn rolls her eyes, but it’s good-natured now, Douglas sees. Did she assume that he’d deny it, sleeping with Martin? “Well... as lovely as it is to see you two _getting along_ , perhaps we could also fly some plane? What do you think?” Carolyn grins, slyly. “If you’re very good little pilots you can kiss again in Brussels.” 

Douglas says, unaware he ever had it in him, this whole coming out business, “Oh, _yes_ , at every airport we land, I think. What do you say, Martin, we can put pins in a map somewhere? Places we’ve kissed, places we’ve…” Douglas raises his eyebrows, and waits for Carolyn to walk out, and Arthur behind her. 

Douglas waits a moment to make certain they’re gone. Then says, quieter, not entirely certain that what he just did was at all advisable, “You all right?” 

Martin nods, quickly. “Yes, I... yes! That was...” He looks stunned, still. Then smiles. “I never thought you’d do that. Kiss me like that.” 

“Ah, well, I do live to surpass expectation.” Douglas admits, “I never quite saw myself as the sort of man who in middle age brazenly takes a twenty-year-younger male lover, either. But then, it does have a certain _je ne sais quoi_.” 

Martin laughs at that, a little hesitantly. Then asks, “Did you mean it, about the... being a boyfriend?” He winces, and adds, “Not that you have to! At all!” 

Douglas is aware that they don’t need to go quite that far, but then, why not. “Certainly, if you want me to be.” 

“I… do.” Martin says it nervously. 

Douglas says, “Then a boyfriend you shall have.” 

And watches the smile break over Martin’s face.

 

 

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

 

 

Martin has never been so happy. 

Every morning he wakes up thinking for a moment that he dreamt it, this. Douglas. 

Martin has never lived with someone before - or well, not after living at home with Mum - so he doesn’t know how it’s supposed to be. Martin hasn’t really moved in, not yet, but his toothbrush stands in the bathroom next to Douglas’. There’s space in the wardrobe for his uniform, and some spare clothes for when he has a job with the van. Douglas buys the bread Martin likes, now. 

Martin makes the bed in the morning. 

And it feels... Martin never thought that he would be the sort of person who has a boyfriend with a house where he stays the night. It feels strange. Like he’s floating, all day and night. Like he’s living someone else’s life. 

Douglas kisses him, now. In public. When they walk together, Douglas holds a hand to Martin’s lower back, or takes his arm, or puts an arm over him. Martin is amazed at all the ways two people can be close together, and how Douglas seems to know them all. 

Martin still thinks about what Douglas said, sometimes. That this won’t last. 

But it all feels so _right_. When they’re in bed together, naked and close, and Douglas laughs near Martin’s ear. When they’re talking over breakfast. When Martin has a toothbrush in his mouth and is combing his hair and grabbing his jacket all at the same time, and Douglas strolls into the room, rolls his eyes at him, and says that they have another ten minutes at least. It all just... happens. 

The next Birling Day, when Martin thinks that Douglas will pretend that they’re not together at all, for sure - because well, Mr. Birling isn’t really all that modern about things like gay people, and they do need the tips - Douglas walks right up to Mr. Birling, pulls Martin along, and says, “I got myself a nice young thing, what do you think?”

Martin kind of _squeaks_ at hearing that. But Mr. Birling looks consideringly at Martin, and then back at Douglas, and says, “Not what I would have done... but it can’t be worse than my wife.” 

And that’s it. How it goes. 

Mr. Birling does make a joke when he’s drunk about ‘bumboy pilots’, and Martin flushes. They haven’t done that yet, actually. Or maybe they never will, Martin’s not sure, but it doesn’t really matter. 

It’s worse when Arthur later asks, “So what did Mr. Birling mean when he said that about you being bumboys?”

Martin says, “Um... It’s...” He eyes Douglas.

Douglas shouts, “Oh, Carolyn...! Do come here, your son has questions about _the gay lifestyle_.” 

They hear Carolyn’s muffled but harried explanation in the cabin, and both giggle when Arthur exclaims loudly, “Oh! ... _wow_.” 

When they’ve been together for a month - and Martin didn’t know that that was supposed to be a thing to celebrate at all - Douglas pulls a wrapped box from under the bed. And hands it to him as if that’s normal, presents just happening out of nowhere. Martin does open it, but mainly he’s apologising that he didn’t get anything for Douglas ...and then he sees what it is. 

A remote-controlled Cessna 182. 

Exactly like the one that Martin used to have, the one that Simon broke. Only much better, a more recent model. 

They take it outside, and spend all afternoon flying it in the park. And when they come home, cold and windblown, but still laughing, Douglas says, “You can keep it on the bedside table if you want to.” 

And Martin thinks that he’s never felt this. Or anything like it. 

Because it’s not just _being in love_. It’s not, like Arthur said, all walks in the moonlight, it’s just normal life - they do work a lot, and clean, cook, and do the shopping, or watch TV. But it’s all so much... better. Together. 

The next time Douglas’ phone goes and he answers it with, “Verity! Any plans for your birthday bash?” Martin sits up. Because Douglas’ daughter, she’ll probably hate him, if she ever finds out that Martin’s her dad’s boyfriend. 

Douglas said once that Martin could talk to her. Martin wanted to then, because she’s a part of Douglas, and Douglas loves her. But now, Martin instantly and desperately hopes that Douglas has forgotten about that, because it’s so much more awkward now. But Douglas catches his eye, and says, “And I have someone here that ate most of our cupcakes last time, here you go.” 

Douglas hands him the phone. 

As if it’s nothing. 

Martin hasn’t practiced this, or thought it through at all. But he holds the phone to his ear and says, uneasily, “Hello, it’s Martin. Um, Martin Crieff. _Captain_ Martin Crieff. I’m your dad’s... _captain_?” 

And then Martin realises that maybe she doesn’t even know about the captain bit. 

He looks at Douglas, but Douglas seems fine with it, and she answers, “Oh, Martin! You killed one of our koi carp on my twelfth birthday, I remember. Dad has a picture of all of you on his wall, you’re the one with all the gold on your hat, right?” 

“I… am. Um. I’m sorry?” Martin _is_ still sorry about accidentally killing the fish. And then wonders what picture Douglas has on his wall? He’s never seen it anywhere around the house, and he’s lived here for most of a month. 

She’s reminding Martin of Douglas already, and that makes him feel a pang of nerves. Better to stop it now. “Anyway. I, um, thank you for the cupcakes, they were really good. Well baked, and really… good.” Martin doesn’t know what to say to a teenage girl! 

She laughs. 

Martin smiles a little, too, this is going well, but he needs to end it _right now_ , “Well, um, bye. Verity.” 

“Bye, Martin.” 

Martin takes the phone from his ear, and gives it back to Douglas feeling as if he did something heart-stoppingly difficult. 

Douglas gives him a look, and asks her, “Didn’t tell him any terrible secrets, did you? Because I’d never live it down.” Whatever she says next is funny, because Douglas laughs, crinkling the corners of his eyes. 

Martin watches him, and Douglas meets his gaze a couple more times while talking to her. He hangs up after a while, and then says, “She didn’t say anything too embarrassing?” 

“Oh no, she was… nice. She sounds a bit like you.” 

Douglas smiles indulgently. “Ah, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” 

Douglas doesn’t say anything about ever meeting her, and Martin doesn’t ask. But he does ask about the picture, “She said you had a picture of MJN on your wall?”

“A picture?” Douglas frowns, and then says, “Ah! Yes, on Facebook.” 

“ _You_ have a Facebook profile?” Martin really didn’t think that that was Douglas’ sort of thing. Martin doesn’t have one, he never did. 

“I am the father of a teenage girl, Martin, there is no better way to keep up with her.” Douglas raises his chin, “I’ll have you know that we _snapchat_ as well.”

Martin laughs. 

As the weeks go on, they don’t have sex every night anymore. Or even every other night. 

Martin doesn’t stay over all the time, so at first they do, but then there’s an evening they’re both tired, and it doesn’t happen. And then another, and another. And that should feel a bit less nice, probably, Martin thinks, but he loves it, too. To sleep here, in Douglas’ bedroom. To wake up with Douglas loosely curled around him. To know that they’re together. 

On Sundays, when they’re not flying, Douglas starts bringing Martin breakfast in bed. 

Martin secretly thinks that it’s impractical, and that they could just as well eat at the table. But he never says so, because it always gets Douglas in a good mood. And the smell of fresh baked croissants, and eggs, and bacon, and coffee in the morning is really nice. 

Afterwards, there are always croissant flakes all over the sheets, and a mostly-eaten tray on the side table, and Martin’s tea goes cold while he reads a flight manual, and Douglas the paper. 

Or sometimes, it goes cold because they kiss, and kiss, and then, well... it’s usually afternoon by the time they get up, either way. 

On their two-month anniversary, Martin takes Douglas to the Duxford Air Museum. Douglas is mostly bored, Martin thinks, but it’s not bad, either. 

On their three-month anniversary – and Martin has made plans, real plans, they’re going to dinner tonight – Martin wakes up to Douglas sitting on the bed by his feet. He’s wearing nothing but his dressing gown, and he’s pressing a kiss to the arch of Martin’s foot. 

“Hm?” Martin pulls his foot away a little. He’s ticklish there. 

Douglas moves up to his ankle, where he presses another kiss, and then says, consideringly, to his leg, “Didn’t I say that I would kiss every freckle someday?” 

Martin remembers Douglas saying it, a long time ago. Martin shifts, and yawns. “You really don’t need to. I mean, there are a _lot_ of them.” 

Douglas looks at him, and licks his big toe briefly, teasingly. Martin smiles. Then Douglas suddenly pulls on the sheet, so it shifts over Martin, and falls onto the floor. Martin’s completely naked underneath. “ _Douglas!_ ” 

“We don’t have anything planned until tonight, do we?” Douglas grins, leans over him, and finds the next freckle on his lower leg. 

And Martin can’t breathe, for a moment, the way he never can when he knows that they’re about to have sex. 

Douglas puts his lips over his leg, and kisses it briefly. Then the next freckle, a little higher up. The ones after that are in a cluster, and each gets a fast kiss. The next gets a little bite. 

Martin feels warm, still, and a little sleepy, but mainly relaxed. And it feels so good. 

There aren’t many freckles on his inner thighs, but Douglas pays extra attention to the ones that are there, lying between Martin’s legs. He’s comfortable there, apparently, because he does so very slowly. Martin can feel himself wake up completely, and respond. By the time Douglas is at his hipbones, Martin is already tilting his hips his way. 

Douglas looks at him, and takes a little detour, a warm lick over the tip of his cock. 

Martin moans, “Douglas!”

“Yes, _dear_?” Douglas always says it just a little sarcastically, but Martin loves hearing it. Except now he only half notices, because Douglas takes Martin’s erection in his hand, and moves it down to his mouth so he can lick the side. It feels warm and wet and fluttering and amazing. 

“Douglas…”

“Hmm.” Douglas licks his tongue over the head. And then sucks, and that’s like a pulse, hot and sharp. Martin puts a hand on Douglas’ shoulder, and holds on. 

It’s almost too much, too good, too fast. Douglas goes on, until Martin’s shoulders press back into the mattress, his stomach tenses, and Martin says, “Close!” 

Douglas pulls off in time, so Martin can keep the shiver-burn of coming away. 

Martin’s erection feels wet and hot, now. But Martin’s got used to doing this in bits, now, not to just push until he comes straight away. It’s still hard not to, sometimes, but Douglas is always really good about it. 

Douglas smiles, and then takes his dressing gown off, moves up the bed, and settles behind him. Martin loves this, too. Being in Douglas’ arms.

Douglas just holds him for a bit. Lazily kisses his neck. Then meanders his way over Martin’s shoulders, his upper back. It feels prickly, Douglas’ kisses – he hasn’t shaved yet. Douglas kisses every bit of Martin’s back, and licks a bit, then sucks, it’s warm, and Martin lies very still. Just feels him. 

Douglas scrapes his teeth over a vertebra, and Martin tries not to buck his hips. 

“Hm,” Douglas hums, and kisses it better. 

Martin can hear Douglas’ breathing, and feel it, too. His slightly-cool, steady breaths on his skin. Martin turns his head to look back at Douglas. He loves to see Douglas’ eyes, when they do this. Douglas always looks so absorbed, as if he’s doing something really fascinating. 

Douglas sees, smiles, and then leans in, and kisses him. Slow. 

Then Douglas moves his hips, and presses his erection to Martin’s arse, which makes Martin instinctively buckle, “Ah!” 

Martin’s felt it many times before, the heat and hardness, but there’s something about it pressing against him there that makes him feel all shivery. And Douglas knows that, too. Douglas leans over him, and whispers into his ear, “Is that good?” 

Martin pushes back into the hard pressure, and swallows. “Yes...” It really is. 

Douglas reaches a hand around, and traces between Martin’s legs. He skims over the skin of his thighs. Closer, and closer. And then on to his cock, and it feels like a series of little shocks, every fingertip. Douglas has learned to be really soft, sometimes. It makes Martin’s toes curl. 

Douglas moves his fingers there, gently. Martin lowers his head, and breathes, tries to hold it back. 

But Douglas presses his hips against Martin’s arse, and Martin can’t help it, he moves back into his cock, and moans, “Oooh...” 

“Hmm,” Douglas says into his ear, “I love you like this.” 

Before Martin can think about it, Douglas’ fingertips tighten. Douglas’ hand wraps around him, and he moves it in a quick back and forth rhythm. For just a couple of strokes, but the sensation _shoots_ through him. Martin tenses. “Douglas!”

Douglas lets go, and uses only his fingertips again. “Yes?” 

Martin can feel his whole face throb with heat. Douglas says, his voice deep, “You’re so close, aren’t you?”

Martin shudders hearing it. His erection moves by itself, right there, almost. “Yes. Yes, I will, _anything_...” 

Douglas presses his cock to him again. Martin twitches, and breathes in a gasp. Douglas says, behind him, watching him, “Then _come for me_.” 

Douglas moves against him, then pinches a nipple. And Martin’s penis contracts by itself, Martin comes in spurts all over his belly and legs, his whole body pulsing, raw and warm.

Martin lies back against Douglas’ chest with a last, shivery breath.

Douglas says, warmly, “Hmm, that was _spectacular_.” 

Martin is still trembling too much to say anything back, but he basks in the tone. Douglas sounds so pleased. 

Martin lies there, and closes his eyes for a bit, Douglas gently touching his side. 

Douglas never minds when he takes a while to recover, but Martin doesn’t really want to take too long. He rolls out of Douglas’ arms. And looks at Douglas, his chest, and belly, his dancing eyes. And leans down to take Douglas into his mouth. 

It’s still Martin’s favourite thing to do. To have Douglas close like this. To taste him. Martin loves taking him as deep as he can, the way it makes him feel. How nothing else matters when he’s doing this. 

Martin reaches out a hand, and holds Douglas’ balls. He breathes in through his nose, and then takes him into his mouth, in and out, fast. It’s wet and messy. 

Douglas settles a hand on his neck, and squeezes, and Martin breaks out in goose bumps. He moans around Douglas’ cock. Martin can’t really feel his tongue anymore, or his mouth; he’s just here, doing this. For Douglas.

Douglas suddenly tilts his hips, and Martin lets him, moves into it. 

Douglas says, distantly, “ _Yes_ , like that...” 

There’s spit rolling down Martin’s chin, but he doesn’t care, Douglas is groaning, “Martin...” 

Then Douglas tightens his hand on Martin’s neck, and holds him _right there_. Martin loves that moment, it makes something in his own belly unclench, when Douglas suddenly gasps. And then it’s all heat and bitterness in his throat, Douglas breathing a long sigh out, slowly falling back. 

Martin swallows, it’s hard with Douglas’ cock still touching his throat and it hurts, but it’s nice, too. He keeps him in his mouth for a while, and then slowly lets him slide out from between his lips. Martin mouths the head, where there’s still some come, and carefully licks it off. 

Then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and moves up the bed. Martin’s elbows are sore from leaning on them. He’s a bit cold. But he feels great. 

Especially when he sees Douglas’ look. 

Martin curls up close to him, and buries his face in Douglas’ neck. Douglas runs his hand over Martin’s back, he always does, and Martin thinks that there’s nothing nicer than that. It feels like home, whenever Douglas touches him that way. As if everything is just right. 

After a bit, Douglas idly presses a kiss to Martin’s cheek. 

Martin smiles, and looks up. 

Douglas says, smoothly, “Forgot some freckles.” 

Martin feels so grateful and bright, he feels as if he could burst, for a second. “You really don’t have to.” 

“Kiss all of you?” Douglas presses his hands to Martin’s back a little harder, and massages the muscles there. Martin moves into the touch. “Of course I do.”

And Martin still isn’t sure how people do this. Love each other every single day, day after day. For weeks, and months, and _years_. But he plans to find out. Because this, this is always going to be worth it. No matter what. 

If Douglas keeps on wanting him, if somehow, that happens... Martin will want this forever, too. 

He’s sure of it.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
